Kisses Sweeter Than Wine
by Villain
Summary: *FINISHED* H/D **SLASH** A series of flashbacks of Harry and Draco's long and somewhat aggravating road together. But I warn you or perhaps it's tempt... there is heavy snoggage happening, so be wary. Chalked full of darling pet names!
1. Wet

Kisses Sweeter Than Wine  
  
  
  
  
A/N: HAHAAAA!! I've crawled pathetically back to my original calling everyone! H/D! Hee. Now, this may be a bit confusing and I apologize for it. Bad me, very bad! So, we get the whole plot, right? Simple, Harry remembers some key points in the molding of his and Draco's relationship. And their ages now are like..... 22? That good? Spiffers. *thumbs up* Enjoy, lovelies.  
  
Chapter One: Wet  
  
It was raining outside, the tiny ice cold droplets pitter-pattering almost musically on the rooftop of the quaint little cottage on the side of a lake deep in the green forest of the English countryside. The house would barely qualify as living space for most people, but the two men who lived there now found it perfect for their simple needs.  
  
Inside nestled among layers and layers of blankets upon a huge old fashioned bed facing a cheery fire was curled up Harry Potter. He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran his fingers through his still unruly black hair. Just a week ago he had gone to see his Godfather and Sirius almost broke down, exclaiming how he always did just how alike Harry and his father, James, looked.  
  
He looks like his father, too, thought Harry, looking over the man sleeping peacefully cradled in his tanned arms. Just like him.  
  
Shivering slightly and wishing for a nice comfy sweater to snuggle into instead of his bare skin, Harry drew the other body closer to his, feeding to and off heat between them. Looking out the window at the gloomy drizzle, Harry found himself smiling in a way which he knew sent his eyes sparkling with a happy gleam, or so the man next to him would constantly remind him. The rain continued to fall, once in a while a soft rumble of thunder rolling over the clouds and a quick flash of lightning brightening the darkened sky.  
  
A day like this, years ago. Had started it all.  
  
Harry leaned back with a contented sigh, placing a soft kiss on his partner's brow. He remembered that day - that beginning and all that followed crystal clear. A day like this, exactly like this one when they had been playing Quidditch. Gryffindor versus Slytherin........  
  
  
  
......... The rain came down in icy turrets as tiny freezing spears. Pewter gray clouds turned and rumbled above the Quidditch pitched and thunder crashed while lightning flashed wickedly through the crisp, sharp air. Hundreds of students and teachers alike sat up in the stands screaming themselves hoarse as Alicia Spinnet made a goal, bringing the game to a nerve wrenching tie of 80-80.  
  
High above all the speeding young witches and wizards, two boys hovered motionlessly except for their eyes, which were darting this way and that nonstop. Emerald green eyes intently studied the field, wondering how in the world he was going to spot the Golden Snitch with so much darkness and gloom dulling the pitch. A few feet below, eyes matching the storm overhead both in color and ferocity were fixed unblinkingly upon the boy who flew over him. For he had learned early that the only way to beat Harry Potter was to know what the boy would do even before Potter himself did. And so they sat; Harry occasionally glancing down at Draco, who would sneer, his gaze not wavering for an *instant*. It only took an instant, and the game could be lost.  
  
Butterflies would erupt inside Harry's stomach and he would blush feverishly up around his neck and hurriedly look away. He never knew if Draco saw, but he would resume his tedious search for the Snitch, his face burning as he felt those violently beautiful eyes bore into him mercilessly, itching at his consciousness and coyly toying with his teen heart. And yet Harry didn't know if Draco had the faintest inkling of the other boy's feelings for him. How those eyes, that face - that attention he received from Draco - made him feel through the very roots of his soul a burning passion that almost went to hurt.  
  
But no one must know. No one must ever know of the great Harry Potter's *lust* for the Slytherin champion, Draco Malfoy. It was sad really: Draco swaggering about the school, proudly keeping the eyes of those who supposedly "hated" him fixed on his form and artful grace. He was known to use. A quick fuck and it's all over. Unless you're good. Damn good and then maybe - just maybe he'll draw you back in. Though everyone knows - and may have indeed tried - the Silver God, the mercury Fallen Angel will not be teased, will not be seduced. He may have whoever he chooses. It was a fact of life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as the general populace of the school knew all too well.  
  
And Harry wished more than anything that he could have that. Even if it was just to say that he, Draco Malfoy, had fucked Harry Potter. No matter, for all he wanted was a moment of heated passion to sate his growing lust and his growing obsession. To be where he knew Draco was on the same level as he in a web of heat and passion.  
  
Draco was well known as the tough lover unless he was feeling like something different. His brief lovers (lasting at most a night or two, perhaps a moment between classes) would sport vicious bite marks and deep bruises from those impossibly strong feminine fingers and pearly white teeth. He wouldn't let them magic the marks away, no chance. Malfoy's mark was an honor to have indeed.  
  
He made it a good sport to split up happy couples if he was feeling especially spiteful that day. Most often Gryffindors. Harry would worry of Ron and Hermione. But surprisingly Draco left them alone. No one asked questions. Ron and Hermione remained cheerful companions in their marital like bliss and acting much like an old married couple every day.  
  
Once every while a person would come along thinking to outwit or outplay Draco. Thinking to tease him and then be the dumper, and not the dumped.  
  
He would put them shortly after in their place.  
  
So now Harry was looking at him again. That cursed creature almost too perfect to be real. Gray eyes peered back at him. Harry could feel each and every drop of rain as it struck him and thudded against his person. He felt the cold to the very marrow of his bones.  
  
Then they both saw it at the same exact moment, hovering almost playfully between them, bobbing up and down, teasing. Harry reflexively dove at a sharp downward angle as Draco cut straight up. Their hands reached, lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and out of nowhere; two bludgers came streaking through the storm straight at the seekers.  
  
Harry was hit roughly from behind and Draco was caught on his hip. The Snitch vanished again and they both cursed. But still flying off avoiding the path of more bludgers, the two boys didn't see where they were going and came together with a gut wrenching thud, the impact sending their robes into tangles about them, holding together due to the rain. (A/N: We all know how wet cloth clings! Yup, *nods* work with me here, people!)  
  
And their lips met in a crushing kiss.  
  
At first as Harry felt Draco's arms wrap around him (caused by the impact) and the tight fit of their sweat soaked, rain drenched bodies, he was sure that he had died and gone to Paradise.  
  
Both of them were still and Harry managed to force opened his eyes. Draco's were closed and the raven haired Gryffindor took a moment to study the refine features on the stunningly delicate face. When the gray orbs flicked open, they met Harry's squarely and time froze: The yelling was dulled to a low hum and all that Harry could see was Draco's face, his storming gray eyes mirroring the raging fright going on right over their heads. Harry's breath caught painfully as the kiss broke. Their arms remained locked around each other's tense frame. Swirling gray hiding all peered deeply into the vibrant green which matched the whipping trees of the Forbidden Forest in the background. Harry's lips were parted in a look of awed innocence. Water cascaded down their faces, dripping off their chins and making the long curved lashes sparkle in dance with rain light.  
  
Suddenly there was a tiny flash of gold and Draco's hand whipped out to close around the Snitch. He did not even bat an eyelid. Slowly, he leaned forward and breathed hotly onto Harry's ear, "Looks like I've won you over, Potter."  
  
On the ground Harry felt dazed and could barely walk straight. Draco's last comment had him dreadfully confused. What had he meant by saying such a queer thing?  
  
Don't be stupid, Potter, he chided himself, bitterly amused. Draco had meant the *game*.  
  
Tingling sensations of electricity prickled on the back of his neck. He felt that piercing gaze and looked up wonderingly. Draco was watching him, his fair face that of an impassive mask. Surprisingly the Slytherin didn't look smug with his victory. He just...... looked.  
  
Merlin, thought Harry in a giddy panic, his mouth going dry. Draco *had* meant the game!  
  
Right?  
  
~*~  
  
Harry fell back on his bed, eyes sparkling with a manic giddiness; not minding that his muddy robes were running all over the nice clean sheets, nor that he could be catching his death of pneumonia right that moment, or that he should be writing to Sirius and not having a girlie fit of giggles about kissing Draco Malfoy out on the Quidditch pitch in the pounding rain. In front of the whole school.  
  
Quidditch.  
  
Kiss.  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
Wet.  
  
Life was all too good.  
  
Hedwig tapped her claws on the top of his bedside desk, eyeing the unfinished letter to Harry's Godfather with impatience. But Harry was much too busy ranting off to any wizarding picture that would stay and listen and did not notice his indignant owl in the least. He had skipped the locker room and a nice shower to rant, and that's what he was going to damn well do!   
  
By the time he made any sense, Hedwig was asleep and the only photographed people left in the room were Dean's West Ham soccer players in their muggle poster. And even *they* looked sorry to be there.  
  
"Merlin! I can't believe I did that! We..... we kissed! Our lips were touching! In contact! Together!" He drew the pillow up over his face and squealed into it. Then, drawing it back in horror, he threw it away, shrieking, "Oh no! What if I rubbed his lip essence off or something! Hedwig!" Then, overtaken by giggles, he buried his face into the sheets. Coming up for air, he gasped to the disgruntled owl; "I didn't pull away - *he* didn't pull away! Neither of us pulled away! I wonder if anyone noticed? I mean, we did hit pretty hard, right?" His face had abandoned the jubilant glee of earlier to take on an expression of terror. "No one would suspect anything. AAURGH!!" Once again, his face disappeared into the muddied sheets. Hedwig rolled her golden eyes, gave a pitying glance to the soccer poster and stole quietly out the window.  
  
Now, no one knew that the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the savior of all wizarding kind was..... gay. In fact, Harry himself had come to the full realization only at the beginning of the school year. And the whole cause of that realization had *kissed* him less than an hour ago.  
  
Then of course that same cause of realization caught the Golden Snitch and won the match - a victory for Slytherin. But that really wasn't important now, was it? The point was, they had *kissed*! There was almost-but-not-so-major-snoggage happening!! True, no tongues were intertwining zealously with each other, or hands diving beneath robes to caress hot and sweaty skin. Nope. But hey! A kiss is a kiss is a damned kiss, and Harry Potter was now giggling madly into his pillows again just remembering the soft, slightly tickling sensation of Draco's lips on his own.  
  
"Oh, and he closed his eyes, too," squeaked Harry breathlessly, toppling over the side of the bed and landing with a painful thump on the ground. He picked himself up, still grinning broadly. "Hedwig," he called, "Where'd you go, girl! I haven't finished my letter to Sirius." He went over to his desk, straightening his crooked glasses. Upon noticing the quaint little present his rather miffed owl had left him, Harry cringed and pulled out his soggy wand.......  
  
  
....... Harry grinned and blushed with the memory. He still couldn't believe that no one had guessed him gay! Merlin, even most girls weren't *that* bloody giggly.  
  
Sighing, he glanced at the grandfather clock standing regally in the corner. It chimed seven in the morning. Harry had not slept that night. No, he had been *very* active indeed.  
  
~~~~~*_~~~~~  
  
A/N: Well then, my pretties. Shall we continue? *mentally says YES!!* I've kind of already started chapter two. So, you know, encouragement for a struggling writer is nice. ^_^ And if you have any pleasant suggestions for memories, be free to share them! Cod in Yemen knows I need all the help I can get if you have witnessed my other stories. Yeesh. It would be well appreciated. Ay revior!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	2. Of All the Bloody Things

Kisses Sweeter Than Wine  
  
  
  
  
A/N: THANX TO Lark57: Yeah, they were supposed to be a bit edgy and confusing, sorry love. Chireel: *giggles* I'm glad you're so happy with it! discoball: *laughs* Gay pride, baby! nightwing: Will do, darling. Hikari-Chan: Yes, I like Harry as a ditz. Whee! AshFarley: You got giggly w/ Hanson? Ooh, for me it's Jude Law, Orlando Bloom, Hayden Christensen......  
  
Chapter Two: Of All the Bloody Things  
  
Harry awoke to the smell of smoking toast and burning eggs.  
  
Draco must be attempting to cook again.  
  
Groaning, the slightly gawky man disentangled himself from the blankets and toppled unceremoniously from bed, lying there, spread eagle on the ground for a few minutes, listening to the love of his life cussing away at the pan, the toaster, magic, and the innocent bread box.  
  
"Better stop him before he goes on a mad rampage," Harry muttered. He started to belly crawl across the hard wood floor when a sharp stab of pain shot through his back and he gasped. His long, dull nailed fingers kneaded the sore muscle gingerly. When the pain settled down to a dull ache, he rose and made his way stiffly into the bright kitchen, following the depressing scent wafting through the stifling air. Only stubbing his toe twice with his eyes half closed, he found Draco at the stove, platinum locks of blonde hair jaggedly cut sticking every which way in a wild halo about his head. He turned and smiled warmly at the sleepy head. "Good morning, beautiful," he said cheerily, pushing away from the cooking and wrapping his arms around Harry's slim shoulders. The black haired man yawned and looked interestedly over his boyfriend's shoulder, sniffing miserably. "Yummy," he said without much conviction.  
  
"Now, be patient!" Draco chided him gently, missing the sarcasm purposefully with a wicked grin and kissing his cheek, "This will be done soon enough, so just sit at the table. Get your napkin and silverware."   
  
"You *know* how I love to cook," he added sweetly.  
  
"Draco?" Harry's eyes traveled to the pan, which was emitting an awful cloud of black smoke.  
  
"Yes, my Angel of the morning?"  
  
"Um, a bit more smoke than usual, don't you think, darling?"  
  
"Oh! Shit! I hope you don't mind black toast, dry eggs and charcoal for breakfast." Draco poked at the burned remains of the meal dejectedly.   
  
"Like it ever isn't," muttered Harry darkly, then louder, "If it's made by you, it's only known as art." Harry reached toward the shorter man and ran a finger over the tie of the apron, the only thing Draco wore besides his boxers. The other man grinned at him appreciatively and brought the pan over to the rickety table, grabbing the burnt toast from the old metal toaster. Harry bit down on an egg and gagged it down his throat. Draco smiled and began wolfing down the food without hesitation.  
  
Harry watched him with sick fascination for a few minutes, not quite believing that a living being could eat such substance without the knowledge of the risk of their life at stake. Draco looked up at him with annoyance and opened his mouth as wide as he could, giving Harry a lovely view of "Egg 'a la Eew".  
  
"Enchanting, I'm sure," remarked Harry blandly, plugging his nose and downing a mouthful of eggs. After scraping a hole clean through the thoroughly blackened toast, trying and failing to find even a crumb of unblackened wheat, he stared at Draco until the other man laughed, "What is it now, Harry?"  
  
"How about we go out this morning. My treat." Harry's tone was pleading and Draco giggled and kissed him, leaving crumbs on the corner of Harry's lip.  
  
"That was the original plan," he said coyly, cleaning up the mess of a breakfast with the casual wave of his wand. "Merlin knows that it takes my bad cooking to get you out of this house and into public! And *spending* money no less!"  
  
Harry rose from the table with mock menace, backing Draco into the bedroom. The blonde gasped playfully and tried to flee, but Harry tackled him onto the bed, blowing loud and intrusive raspberries over the man's flat stomach. Draco squealed with delight at his partner's touch and closed his eyes when Harry began to make his way slowly up Draco's abdomen, leaving a trails of burning kisses in his wake.  
  
Draco groaned, opening his mouth readily to Harry's tongue. He allowed the nimble fingers of the ex-Gryffindor to wander to the waistband of his boxers and gently work them down over his hips.  
  
"Mmm," he purred, "That's nice, lover. But if we're eating out, we best take a shower." Harry grinned mischievously and the next thing Draco knew, Harry had him hefted over his shoulder (the blonde squealing happily) and was lugging him to the bathroom.  
  
Setting the slighter man down in the tub, Harry stepped in behind him, turning on the steaming water and pulling the cream curtain round so that no water would leak onto the black and white tiles. Draco backed up against the wall, the steam already laying his hair down in soft waves over his head. Harry pressed up to the shorter man, falling wholly into the sense of Draco's lips on his neck, his chest, his eyes, his fingers.  
  
"Hum, I just love every bit of you," sighed Draco, standing up on his tip toes to claim Harry's mouth in a chaste kiss before reaching down to get the shampoo bottle.  
  
Harry just smiled and enjoyed the words. He said that he loved Draco at least three times a day. More sometimes. Their lives were simple, living modestly off of both Harry and Draco's endless accounts in Gringotts, sometimes taking up odd jobs if needed. As Draco stood up and started to lather his hair, Harry tilted his head to the side, studying the ex-Slytherin as though he were a sculpture or a painting.  
  
He's as perfect as one, mused Harry dreamily, starting to lather his own hair.  
  
~*~  
  
Draco insisted upon the Purple Hippo, a small pub outside of Hogsmeade. The waitress and owner, who happened to be Ginny Weasly, seated them at their usual table and sat for a few minutes of idle chit chat while the other girl, a new waitress by the name of Sandy, brought them steaming cups of orange spice tea and a cup of hot chocolate for Draco.  
  
"So how's business since last week, Gin," asked Harry, snaking his hand over to snatch a marshmallow from Draco's drink while the blonde wasn't looking. Ginny laughed as Draco slapped Harry's hand away good-naturedly and replied, "So so. My crowd is merely bunch of loyalists who are strangely addicted to old fashioned food like you two." She winked at them. "I saw Seamus a few days back you know."  
  
"Oh? How is the old bloke," said Draco mildly, chewing on a marshmallow and grudgingly offering one to Harry, who scooped it off his fingers with an expert tongue.  
  
"Well, I told you about Dean and him, right?"  
  
"Yes. I just can't believe he'd be stupid enough to marry Lavender and then go back to Dean after only a *year*." Harry shook his head. "Poor Lavender, how's she holding up?"  
  
Ginny stood, looking towards the door as two more men came in, and answered him pointedly as she walked away, "How would you feel if you married a gay spouse?"  
  
Harry turned to Draco and kissed his cheek, whispering, "I'd feel wonderful." Draco smiled back at him lovingly and gave him a light kiss on his nose. Then Sandy came by, her dishwater blonde tresses matted with oily air from the cook's house behind the far counter. She smiled politely down at them and asked for their order.  
  
"Urm," Harry hadn't had to order in this pub since only Merlin knew when. Ginny knew what to give them. But poor Sandy looked nervous so he smiled warmly back and recited, "I'll have the buttermilk pancakes with an omelet, toast, and a side of bacon. That'll be all and maybe a pot for my tea." She jotted it all down, her tongue sticking between her teeth. When she finished and turned to Draco, her and Harry saw that at the moment the blonde was deeply involved in blowing happy little frothing bubbles of chocolate over the side of his cup and seeing how high he could propel the sloppy dripping marshmallows using a straw he had conjured up.  
  
Sandy looked shocked that a grown man (not to mention one so refined looking) would be blowing bubbles in his cocoa like a two year old (A/N: Or for that matter a 14 year old authoress by the name of Villain). She looked at Harry nervously, who was staring at Draco with a look of weary amusement. He reached over and snatched the straw out of Draco's mouth, licking off the end and holding it out of the blonde's reach. Draco pouted, then noticed Sandy watching him with wide, scared blue eyes, clutching to the notepad for dear life. He cleared his throat and said airily, "Belgian waffles with a side of strawberries, strawberry syrup and a small cup of whipped cream if you will." He gave her a dashing smile and she blushed deeply, ducking away to fulfill their orders.  
  
From behind the giant counter in the back, Billy the Cook waved to the two men, who nodded back. Harry chuckled and gave Draco back his straw. "I can't believe you," he said in mock disgust, shaking his head. Draco grinned widely and proceeded to cause a minor explosion of the chocolate bubbled in his mug, managing to get his drink everywhere.  
  
Laughing, they mopped it up with the paper napkins. Draco leaned far back, arching over the top of the seat, stretching his hands high and allowing a tiny line of his stomach to show. Harry purposefully did not notice and calmly sipped his tea. His partner pouted prettily and then stood up and scratched his chin. He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and tickled his ear. "I'm off to the loo, moppet."  
  
"Have fun," said Harry brightly, nipping at the pale fingers.  
  
"I assure you I'll try just for you, lover," retorted Draco smoothly, ruffling Harry's hair as he glided past, swaying his hips much to the pleasure of the whole pub.  
  
Sneakily Harry peeked over his shoulder and watched the back pockets of Draco's impossibly tight trousers move away, waving cheerily at him as they bobbed rythmically along. He grinned and turned back to his tea as Draco disappeared around the corner of the old wood counter.......  
  
  
....... Harry turned quickly around upon hearing Hermione call to him, "Harry! Hurry or you'll be late!" As he did, he knocked right into someone solid and fell backwards. That someone put their hands out on his hips to steady him and he took hold of their upper arms to keep his balance. A long finger with black painted nails brushed his lips and moved up his face to push the askew pair of glasses back up the startled Gryffindor's nose. Green eyes focused on who stood in front of him, their eyebrow arched smartly and hand resting irresistibly on a crooked hip.  
  
Draco blinked at Harry slowly, looking rather bored. He seemed about to say something biting, for a sneer was creeping across the turned down lips. Embarrassed, Harry drew away sharply, his hands to his chest, and sputtered clumsily, "I - I'm sorry-"  
  
A coy smile played over the Slytherin's sensuous lips. He pressed closer to the other boy, never breaking with him their burning eye contact, forcing Harry to stumble back into the wall, his glasses only getting knocked askew again. He looked terrified. His breath had quickened.   
  
"Well, I'm not," the blonde purred. As the words dropped from his sugar coated lips, a pale hand snaked up between them to take Harry's chin painfully in its iron grip. The raven haired boy could feel the bruise rising and struggled not to whimper. But every thought of the pain (or anything else for that matter) fled as Draco tilted his head to the side, parting the perfect bow shaped lips and closing his eyes. Two twin pools of green shone with nothing short of frightened shock as he felt the wet, hot pressure of Draco's soft mouth resting upon his. Thinking frantically, Harry reflexively shut his eyes tight and hesitantly parted his own lips. He could feel Draco smile against his mouth, sliding his expert tongue past the quivering lips. And he felt his knees give away. Before he could tell anything from whatnot, he was looking up at the smug Slytherin from the ground, his mouth positively *burning* with the lingering sensation of the other's lips.  
  
Draco bent over straight from the waist, causing many heads to turn as they made their ways hurriedly into their classrooms, and leaned in close to Harry. He was flat against he wall now, rightfully scared out of his wits. Then he felt his insides melt all over again as Draco's hot breath caressed his ear and neck. "This was fun Potter. Step by step we go." He leaned back, once again taking Harry's chin in his grasp, gently this time, and tilting up the pretty face to meet his own hard set one. Harry swallowed uncertainly, his eyes screaming to look away from the gray that pierced through his soul. His neck began to hurt and Draco finally let him go, slumping back into the wall. Then the willowy Slytherin simply spun on his heel and walked into an nearby classroom.  
  
The halls were completely empty and Harry knew that there was no way he would ever get to Transfiguration on time......  
  
  
....... He was knocked painfully back into reality from his reminiscense as Draco came sliding up in his socks to give him a slobbery kiss on his neck before plopping back down in his seat right when Ginny slapped down their steaming plates. She gave Draco another cup of cocoa, and a giant pink straw - much to his delight - and winked at them again, striding to the next costumers a few tables over where Sandy was having trouble balancing all the platters.  
  
"Yummy," cooed Draco, piling vast amounts of fresh strawberries and strawberry syrup and whipped cream over his waffles. And as Harry was rubbing his eyes to further free himself of his trip down Memory Lane, Draco snatched two strips of bacon off of Harry's plate with lightning quick speed. Though as he went to shove them greedily into his mouth, Harry's hand whipped out faster than thought and grabbed them back, shoving them into his own mouth and crunching down. Draco glared at him, then began to giggle as Harry noticed two young girls stared at him in awe from the next table. He flushed and batted at Draco, who scooted smoothly away out of reach with his plate.  
  
Ginny walked over again and looked sternly down at Draco as he was digging in. "Where are your shoes young man?" He looked guiltily up at her and gave a killer puppy face that could've melted ice. "I just had to get here as quick as I could! No time for shoes." She laughed and walked away.  
  
Harry looked wryly at his lover and rolled his eyes. "No wonder you never have any damned socks. You wear them to threads in no time! Well, I don't want to hear any complaining about *this* pair."  
  
Draco grinned wickedly, getting ready to spring away as Harry's face darkened. "Oh, you won't have to, love. They're yours after all."  
  
A/N: Okay, peeps, what is the most romantic thing you can think of? *giggles* I'm allowing myself too much fun! So the next chappie's going to get a bit darker, capeesh? *_~ Au revior!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	3. Serious Bummage

Kisses Sweeter Than Wine  
  
  
  
  
A/N: THANX TO chrisseee667: *giggles* Yes, they are just the cutest thing, eh? Black Night: *blush* Aw, it really isn't me, it's my fabu musies Tyrone and Antuan who are working on this one! Chireel: *sigh* You're soooo lucky mum and dad are gone for you!! Lady Rillen: *bows* I thank thee, milady! SunShine*Malfoy: Whee! I deffinitely will! ^_^ Green-and-Silver: *pouts* I don't have a Yahoo acount, but it did sound lovely! Thank you anyway for the offer!  
  
Chapter Three: Serious Bummage  
  
He sat out on the edge of the rickety old dock, his long legs dangling over the side, toes brushing lightly the surface of the crystal glass water. Tiny ripples from his skin flashed over the water, glittering in the evening light. His jeans were clumsily rolled up to his knees, socks lying in his shoes beside him. It was peaceful and beautiful out in the semidarkness. The only thing disrupting the perfection of the evening being the slim trail of smoke twining up from his lips barely parted lips.  
  
They were called Cigarillos, and were Harry's favorite. Whenever he would go get one for his monthly smoke, little children (girls mostly) would be poking at them and talking about how good they smelled and wondering what they would taste like. For these nasty little cigars were sold individually in cases that disguised them almost as children's candy. Harry would often see young girls smoking them on street corners, laughing lightheartedly. Cigarillos were equal to about four cigarettes. He often longed to go up to them and slap the tiny cigar from their mouths, telling them that it wasn't "cute" or "fun". He wished he himself could stop, but found that only having about one every month was relaxing.  
  
It was Draco who kept him on this strict one-a-month diet. The blonde had dabbled in smoking at school, but stopped shortly after graduating. He would insist Harry use spells to clear his lungs after every smoke, but it made Harry feel like he was cheating humanity. Muggle smokers weren't able to do that; protect themselves from cancer or Emphysema by simple magic. But he would allow Draco to do it, otherwise the blonde would perform it on him whilst he slept and Harry would wake in the middle of it to the sense of a bubbling burning in his air passages, breath wheezing as if clogged by acid. Not very pleasant in the least, and Draco would constantly remind him that he wouldn't have to do it if Harry would just *quit*.  
  
Well, that wouldn't be happening any time soon. And besides, Harry was getting better and better at not inhaling completely, though Draco insisted on performing the spell anyway, just in case.  
  
So he continued to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the deep forest around him and the cool water of the lake on his toes, and the raspberry flavored smoke curling through the air, trying to savor it, knowing that it bugged Draco like hell and it was a stretch for him to even allow Harry this one smoke.  
  
Harry held the flavored smoke inside his mouth, letting it leak steadily from his nostrils and being especially careful not to swallow any of the foul air. Behind him, he heard Draco pad over the dock quietly, and smelled the alluring scent of hot chocolate. The slighter wizard set down the two steaming mugs and sat behind Harry, his long legs easily fitting around Harry's slender hips. Planting his chin on his partner's shoulder, Draco hugged him tightly and wrinkled his nose, saying distastefully, "That's disgusting, Harry. I have a chimney for a boyfriend. Don't even *think* about kissing me tonight." The former Gryffindor craned his neck around, breathing out the smoke and leaving a vile trail of it, watching the lazy spirals detachedly. Draco made a face and Harry pointed out, "I don't inhale, dearest. I wouldn't break my word to you for the world."  
  
"Hmm," sighed Draco grudgingly, running his tongue all over the perfect shell of Harry's ear.  
  
The small cigar was squashed into the ashtray by the nimble white fingers as Draco plucked it out of Harry's mouth, dousing the burn. Draco ran his hands over Harry's back and began kneading the tense muscle. Harry groaned blissfully, forgetting his little cigar, and leaned back into Draco's warm touch. Too bad the blonde didn't quite recall how it was Harry got started smoking almost six years before......  
  
  
...... He had been wandering the halls aimlessly for what seemed like hours. And he had stupidly forgotten the Invisibility cloak resting at the bottom of his trunk to boot. But he couldn't go back, he didn't *want* to go back. Not just yet. Worst of all, he didn't know why. But he had been snippy to everyone the past few days since he had won the match against Ravenclaw. Hermione and Ron carried on as if nothing were the matter, only forcing smiles or backing off when he would lash out at them.  
  
You don't stumble across great friends like them everyday, he hissed mentally, I'm being so stupid, treating them like that!  
  
Pausing, Harry took in his surroundings. Ah, good. He was near the room that lay past the Astronomy Tower on the farthest side of the school. It was a room in which Harry would often go to think about things, his latest infatuation being a certain Slytherin. So he started walking faster to his room where he would sit on the sill of the huge rounded window facing the lake and swing his legs over the side into the open air. Who knew why the castle had such a dangerous window able to open like that, being as long as the Potions class room and on the seventh floor.  
  
The door to the room was shut and Harry moved to use his wand to open it when he caught the faint scent of smoke. He hesitantly peered in through the keyhole and then fell back, his heart beating very fast.  
  
No, please not now, he begged with his eyes closed. For beyond that door, sitting on his very sill was Draco Malfoy, basking in the silver glow of the moonlight, setting his hair blazing in icy white radiance. His slim frame was hunched over, legs hanging over the edge of the sill, shirtless and dressed only in baggy pj bottoms checkered green and gray. Not able to help himself, Harry peeked again, noting that one could see each and every wiry muscle defined in the slender form of his back. And hanging as a halo around the beautiful head was a small cloud of smoke, spiraling up and out the window into the crisp night air.  
  
Squinting closer, Harry was able to see the long, thing cigarette hanging from the corner of Draco's mouth. The boy took a long drag, his back becoming straight for a small instant before exhaling and slumping back over into his relaxed position.  
  
Suddenly, so fast that Harry didn't know what was what, Draco leapt to his feet and his wand shot something at the door, banging it open and sending Harry rolling backwards on his heels. Slowly the willowy teen stalked closer and closer to Harry, who scrambled to his feet and tried his best to look an innocent passerby. But his eyes dropped, he bit his lip, and his feet shuffled. He was the picture of guilt, even without Draco noticing the steady glow of his cheeks in the dim light of the halls.  
  
"A little peeping Tom are we, Potter? Taken to stealing through the halls and spying on couples snogging? Jealous then, alone." He blew a sharp smelling cloud of smoke into Harry's face and the Gryffindor began coughing and wheezing, his eyes watering up. Draco laughed quietly, though it seemed to fill the whole hall and chill Harry's spine. Then they both heard something at the far end of the hall that sounded like voices. Harry felt a strong hand grip his arm and jerk him inside the room. The door was shut carefully behind him and Harry gripped his arm sorely and watched as Draco silently put his ear to the door, the cigarette still dangling precariously from his lips and trailing the wispy twines of smoke into the air.  
  
The Prefects (for whom Harry guessed the voices came from) passed by without stopping and Harry let his breath go, not realizing he had been holding it. All he was aware of now was that Draco had fixed those emotionless orbs of ice onto his person. He felt like a glass figure the other boy could see straight through. After a few moments passed, Draco slipped past him and went back to the sill, sitting down on it so that one leg stuck over the edge into the night air while the other remained rooted to the floor inside. Harry swallowed nervously.  
  
"Stop fidgeting and come over here," said Draco sharply. Harry snapped to attention and approached the window cautiously, shivering from the cold breeze filtering through. Draco looked at him searchingly for a moment, his eyes darting over Harry's face and pajamas (the over sized striped ones of Dudley's that he actually fit into.... er, lengthwise anyway). Then a feral smile whispered over his mouth, shifting the cigarette to stand straight up. Harry blushed and half wished he was back in bed, half wished that he had the courage to speak. But he didn't trust himself not to make a fool out of him front of so Godly a creature.  
  
Wordlessly Draco pulled another cigarette from his side where they rested in a small silver case. He held it up in front of Harry's nose and said sarcastically, "Take it, Potter. It isn't a snake. It's just a fag." Then he chuckled again as coldly as before while Harry meekly took the cigarette and said, "Not that you would have any problem with that, Parseltongue that you are."  
  
He took another long, slow drag, closing his eyes as he held it in before letting it out in waves from his mouth and nose. Harry thought the boy looked especially frightening just then, smoke seeping like polluted gray rivers from his face.  
  
"Are you just going to stand there?" asked Draco, smiling in a way that did not reach his eyes. Harry just blinked at him, unsure of what to do. He didn't have a light.  
  
Draco sighed with frustration and reached up to take Harry's chin in his velvet fingers. He yanked the dark head down painfully to eye level and took the cigarette from Harry's shaking finger to stick it between the boy's lips. Then he simply snapped his fingers, where a tiny flame of black appeared, dancing on the tip of his index finger. He held it up and caught it on the end of Harry's unlighted fag. His hand remained on Harry's chin while their eyes remained locked. As Harry tried to blink, Draco drew up his hand that had the flame and held it very close to Harry's face. The boy tried weakly to pull away, raising his hands, but Draco clenched his fist tightly and the light of the flame flickered into nothingness. A malicious smile replaced the first one and this time did seep into his eyes, only making them sharper. Harry felt like nothing but a fool. He wanted to leave badly, but knew he wouldn't even get two feet to the door.  
  
"You're supposed to inhale, dear little Harry," purred Draco acidly. He turned back out to the view and blew rings of smoke into the air, puffing idly on the burning cigarette. Tapping the building ash on the end of it into the air and letting it be swept away, Draco looked sidelong at Harry and pulled him down onto the sill. Harry sat down hard with surprise and blinked his widened eyes, looking cross-eyed down at the smoking stick of paper and tobacco protruding from his mouth.  
  
Then, completely out of the blue, Draco spun and punched Harry hard in the stomach. The poor boy gasped, sucking in his breath as he clutched his stomach. But instead, his mouth filled with smoke and he inhaled it deeply, purely on accident, and split into another, more violent coughing fit. Much to the malicious amusement of Draco it seemed, for as Harry fell weakly to the floor, Draco joined him on his knees, patting his back and laughing loudly, "There you are, Potter! Feels *good*, doesn't it then? I can tell it feels so well with you."  
  
Harry slammed his back against the space of wall beneath the window sill, continuing to hack and heave, tears streaming down his flushing cheeks. Seconds later, to his further dismay, he fell a white hot pain in a spot on his stomach, only to see that the cigarette had burned through his shirt! Jumping up, he brushed it away and stared dismally down at the wide black spot over his shirt, where in the middle was a hole all the way through. From the floor, Draco reached over and picked up the fallen fag, popping it next to the other between his smiling lips. Then he looked up at Harry and remarked calmly, "Well, that went well for the first time, eh?"  
  
The Slytherin next stood up and to the shock of Harry, yanked the Gryffindor's shirt roughly up over his head, depositing of it on the floor. He smirked at Harry's surprise and drew a finger from Harry's collar bone down the the red spot where he had been burned. Harry shivered from the cold touch over his skin and wondered whether he should make a run for it while he still could. But something else, something stronger than both his brain or his sense, told him to stay even as Draco stuck the cigarette back into his mouth.  
  
Next Harry knew, he had been backed against the sill and pushed up onto it. He looked up at Draco with a frightened innocence, the fag looking almost foolish hanging there in his mouth.  
  
Draco cocked his head to the side and looked at the other boy impassively. Then he abruptly hopped up into Harry's lap, straddling the Gryffindor. Harry gasped, nearly losing the cigarette, as well as his balance, and clung to Draco as he was rocked back dangerously close to the edge. But Draco only kept looking at him with the same expression and then inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, and motioning for Harry to do the same and hold it in. Not sure exactly what he was doing, Harry complied, and then copied as Draco placed his cigarette next to them. Then Draco took Harry's head in both his hands and held it tightly still as he came down and crushed their lips together with a tiny puff of escaped smoke. He exhaled and their combined breath clouded Harry's thoughts as he was swept away by the heated pressure of Draco surrounding him......   
  
  
...... The massage stopped and Harry blinked his eyes open, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He had been laying all the way down on his stomach, Draco lithely straddling his hips from behind. But now the blonde was nowhere to be found and Harry looked longingly to his sad little cigar, all squished into the crystal ashtray.  
  
"Fancy a swim?" called a sultry voice from over the side of the dock. Harry looked dully about, spotting a pile of clothes off to the side. He crawled over to the edge of the wood and peeked over to see Draco doing a beguiling backstroke, the water just dark enough so that Harry could only see to a few inches below Draco's naval following a thin line of light brown hair.  
  
Sighing, Harry stood up and started to pull off his sweater. He paused momentarily as Draco whistled from bellow appreciatively. After shucking the old crimson sweater Mrs. Weasly had made him his seventh year, Harry felt a little playful and began to swing his hips and hum "You Give Me Fever" as his hands danced up and down, flashing his stomach and chest. Draco catcalled enthusiastically and feigned a dramatic faint down into the water as Harry's fly unzipped.   
  
When Draco resurfaced again, he was welcomed back into the air by the ever so pleasurable sight of a nude Harry Potter daintily testing the water with a foot. The raven haired man squealed and jumped away as if burned. "It's bloody cold," he shrieked plaintively, glaring at Draco. The blonde gawked at him, then laughed uproariously at the sour look on his love's face.  
  
"A little cold water will be good for you, lad!" He reached up, bubbling gleefully, towards Harry's foot, who backed a few more steps away, shaking his head.   
  
"You're mad. I'll shrink away to nothing in there!"  
  
"Why would cold water do that - ah, now I understand." Draco smirked and beckoned Harry to come in. "I'll warm you back up, darling," he promised, lids half down covering the tempting gaze. Harry sat there a moment, staring at him. Then, with a wild cry, ran and took a head first plunge into the dark depths of the lake. Draco giggled and looked around for Harry. Then he squeaked and came half up out of the water, slapping his hand over his bum. Next to him, Harry's head appeared and Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh, so now we're bum pinching then. Eh?"   
  
Harry gasped and tried to swim for dear life as Draco closed in on him, laughing madly, "You don't have chance, Potter! You *or* that pinchable bum!"  
  
A/N: There you go then, lovies. And I did get the names of Harry's favorite cigars wrong. But the piles of swahooli at the tabacco store wouldn't let me see the real ones! *rolls eyes* Something about me being only fourteen and demanding cigars in a near hysterical voice and babbling that I needed them for a story with bummage. *snickers* They just about kicked poor old Villan out! *laughs* Now, this chappie wasn't TOO dark, right? *pouts* Come on, people, have some faith! Happiness will positively FILL the other pages! *looks shifty* And you should be happy, for I had bums in this chappie. Always must I have a bit of bummage. Mah! ^_^ Au revoir!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	4. Chubby Muffin Bunches and Plums

Kisses Sweeter Than Wine  
  
  
  
  
A/N: THANX TO MagicMintDragon: Actually, Draccie doesn't have split personalities, it's just then..... and now type 'o swahooli!! =^P chireel: Ah, your review just makes me smile! ^___^ Lady Rillen: *giggles bashfully* Aw..... StarCat13: *sigh* Thanks!!! Remmy: Oy, I'm so glad you're liking that!! *grin*  
  
Chapter Four: Chubby Muffin Bunches and Plums   
  
"One is the loneliest number you'll ever dooooooo!!"  
  
"Dear please, for the love of all things sacred, stop!"  
  
"But my singing is lovely!"  
  
"Next to a rotting corpse covered in slimy maggots..... it is, quite."  
  
"Humph." There was a long pause. "They call me Mellow Yellow - mrrrrrrrmph!"  
  
Harry had tackled the singing Malfoy and covered his mouth with both hands. "Now, if you want to breathe again, you will NOT sing a note. Understand? Not one note."  
  
Draco nodded, bristling, and Harry let him go, leaning back into a sitting position, straddling Draco's slim waist. The blonde glared testily up at him and Harry reached down and pinned both of Draco's hands to the bed on either side of his shoulders, smirking. He then attacked the other man's buttons with his teeth, artfully undoing them slowly one by one.  
  
Draco sighed, snottily looking bored, but Harry would not be deterred. He had put his partner into a bad mood and was determined to get him back to cheerfulness. So, his smirk widening, he grabbed his wand from the bedside desk and whispered in incantation that caused Draco to open his mouth, on the brim of protest, his eyes widening. But before he could even get a word out, long black ribbons had appeared out of nowhere to secure themselves securely around Draco's ankles, wrists, and gag his mouth. His eyes narrowed dangerously into two twins slits of blazing anger. Harry ignored them cheerfully and waltzed out of the bedroom. At the door he stopped and turned around, waving his wand and saying casually, "Candeltantatum." In moments the room was filled with flickering candles. Draco rolled his eyes and lay back on the pillow, grumbling darkly behind the silk gag.  
  
Mere minutes later Harry skipped back inside the bedroom looking like a young boy about to go to a toy store with limitless amounts of money at his disposal. Draco squirmed, not usually being the one who let himself get tied up. His eyes met Harry's squarely and his expression softened and he could do nothing but chuckle, for Harry had his arms full of Draco's favorites snacks, including a bottle of chocolate syrup.  
  
Yummy......  
  
...... Sneaking off to smoke proved difficult enough for Harry with Ron and Hermione always inquiring about his odor after he came back late into the morning. But one night he thanked such difficulties a thousand times over at the same time of cursing them.  
  
For this night Malfoy was restless and prowling the castle.  
  
And Harry had burned himself, accidentally making his graphic swearing loud enough for the Slytherin to overhear.  
  
Draco watched Harry suck on his finger for a few minutes before making his presence known by a light tap on the door with bone white knuckles. The guilty green eyes whirled to face him, dropping the cigarette to the floor in surprise. They stared at each other for a long time before Draco calmly pointed out that the carpet was beginning to burn.  
  
"Dammit!" Harry quickly stamped it out, grinning when the small flames disappeared and then looking quite frightened as he remembered who exactly had pointed the hazard out to him. As if by magic, Draco had glided up right behind the anxious Gryffindor and as Harry realized it, he tried to get away so that Malfoy wasn't behind his back. But the boy wasn't quick enough.  
  
A white hand reached around his waist and pulled him roughly backwards, stumbling, into Draco's hard embrace. He gasped audibly as strong arms wrapped around his torso and a burning tongue connected with his ear lobe. Hot breath sent chills racing over his spine and soft lips chased moans from his mouth. Before Harry could tell what was happening, the smaller boy had pushed him into the wall, kicking the door closed behind them with a bare foot.  
  
But a voice made itself heard in Harry's head and he gasped, trying to wriggle free, "No! I - this is wrong. Ron - Ron and Hermione are waiting for me!" He tried to push Draco away, but a cold look had seeped into the fierce eyes. Smirking smugly, he reached up and lightly plucked Harry's glasses from his face. Harry let out a small whimper and weakly tried to grab them away, but Draco only dangled them farther out of reach. Then, with a spiteful chuckle, he tossed the glasses perilously close to the door, nearly causing the specs to slide beneath into the hall.  
  
"Oh, please-" Harry begged, turning his face away and shutting his eyes tightly. In answer to the plea, Draco only ground his hips into Harry harder, eliciting a panicked whimper and the jade greens flickered back open. Lips parted in a silent moan as a hand violently ripped open the school robe (Harry having not yet changed for bed) and hands delving beneath the thick black fabric to caress fevered skin.  
  
"Don't bother to resist, Potter," he drawled with a bored expression, "This may be your last chance." The words struck Harry deep with shocked surprise and he stopped struggling. Draco took only a second to regard the other boy with raised eyebrows before dragging down the robes to uncover Harry's torso and stomach, stopping right at the tiny flare of his hips. For a split second, cold winter silver met with the warm spring green. Harry didn't know what made him do it, but he went out on a limb and ran a shaking hand uncertainly through the icy blonde locks. Draco never blinked once.   
  
Harry bit his lip as a chilling breeze that seemed to chase itself round and round the castle bit at his naked flesh. He couldn't keep his limbs from shaking and finally resorted to crossing his arms tightly over his chest. And for a split second, Draco smiled. It was a smile that sat on his lips, adorned his mouth with nothingness, but presence. A smile that Harry found unnerved him greatly. And for a fleeting second he wondered whether it was wise choice to not run while he could.  
  
Hands left the robes hanging at his hips and long black nails dragged back up his chest to grasp his face for a chaste kiss. He kept still, tensing only slightly when Draco drew back, a devious smirk plastered over his face. Harry blanched as Draco stood a few feet in front of him..... undressing. Revealing the taut white body beneath the light emerald robe he wore. To Harry's great surprise, it was all the Slytherin wore. As if he had been *expecting* to find Harry there in a classroom all alone and pondering quietly as he smoked (and not very skillfully I might add, hence the fire hazard).  
  
Draco's pale eyes skimmed the dark room and stopped on a spot behind the teacher's desk. He spread down the robe, stretching it out and flattening it with deft hands. Harry stood, still frozen against the wall, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Immediately butterflies broke loose inside of him, the fluttering feeling turning to a harsh buzzing in his numb ears. The cold seemed more eminent, the fact that he was half naked and that Draco *was* naked pending on his mind like an omen of doom, albeit a promising doom. His fingers curled hard against the icy stone and goose bumps raised over his flesh. Teeth chattered and lips quivered, eyes fluttered closed, nerves twitched and stomach flopped.  
  
"You look nervous, Potter," hissed a voice right next to his ear. He jerked to the side, pulling his hands close to his chest, trying to warm them. Harry lifted his gaze and met Draco's shakily. He watched helplessly as those white hands traced down over his skin, stopping to draw icy hot circles around his erect nipple and tickle his stomach. They made their slow, agonizing path down to the barely hanging robes and boxers beneath. Then they dipped down inside and yanked downwards.  
  
Harry gasped as the cold hit him like a punch in the face. The robes and undergarments bunched down at his heels and he was ware that only his shoes remained. Apparently Draco had noticed, too. For he tutted quietly and squatted down at the shaky boy's feet and started to untie his shoes after Harry had stepped out from the pile of robes nervously.  
  
Then they stood facing each other in a dead silence. Harry was looking down, up, left, right - anywhere but at the vision before him. And Draco? Draco had his eyes fixed on the beauty of the face in front of him, twisted with a nervous, fearful excitement. Twisted into such beauty..... he knew would be his.  
  
Pale silver burned with heat into Harry. He almost faltered under the piercing gaze of the Slytherin. And he almost cried out when the blonde boy finally struck, hard and fast.  
  
He did let himself cry out when the back of his head cracked against the stone, echoing before being cut off by the sounds of heavy breathing and broken whimpers. Draco was ravaging his mouth and bruising his lips, which lay swollen and blood red when the Slytherin started to shove him towards the makeshift bed lain down for them behind the teacher's desk.  
  
Harry had never felt so scared in his life. Before he could do anything about it, he was lying face down on the robe, Draco's sharp knee pressed painfully into the small of his back. Whimpers escaped his swollen lips as hands ran through his hair, burning kisses trailed over his back, words hissed into his ear, causing him to shut his eyes tightly and bite his lip. And above him, Draco was smiling predatorily, his lips twisting at he very concept of the situation he found himself *in*.  
  
"Such a pretty little thing you are, Potter," he crooned silkily.  
  
Then Harry gasped as a white hand twined in his hair and forced his face down into the floor.....  
  
..... Draco lay asleep, nestled safely in Harry's arms. Still awake, Harry watched him with a sweet tenderness in his eyes. He gently brushed strands of icy silver from Draco's face and the other man moaned softly and buried his head deeper into the warm space between the crook of Harry's arm and his side.  
  
Harry hummed a few lines of Greensleeves before carefully disentangling himself from Draco and making his way groggily to the bathroom. He needed to wash the chocolate and sticky carmel from his hair.  
  
He bent over and fiddled with the water taps, cursing his weariness and inability to firmly grasp the silver handles and turn them. Then, making him jump, another hand covered is own and twisted the handle. A steaming jet of hot water spewed from the end of the tap and Harry felt the press of Draco over the back of him, bending at his tiny waist to give Harry a kiss on his ear.  
  
With a yawn, Draco pulled Harry up and turned him so that the blonde could throw his arms effectively around the taller man's neck and pull him down for a passionate kiss. Harry stroked Draco's tongue gently, tasting sugar and pushed the lighter man up to the wall. They were both slow with weariness, but Draco found it not a problem to lean back into the wall, arching his back as Harry kissed down his stomach, dipping his tongue into the naval he had been licking cream from not an hour before.  
  
"Stop that, Harry. It tickles," mumbled Draco, grasping the thick mop of Harry's damp hair and pulling him away from his stomach. "I feel really grody right now, love."  
  
"Oh," yawned Harry, "Alright then."  
  
They helped each other into the tub and gratefully submerged the the lower half of their tired, aching (if pleasurable aching) bodies after regulating the temperature of the steaming water. Draco fell asleep again from the relaxing warmth as he was sponging off Harry's back and Harry allowed himself to lean back and relax into his dreams, cradled in Draco's long arms.  
  
A/N: I'm not happy with this chappie at all. Mumph. Double mumph, for I am in a testy mood. I doona like Algebra. Twas put on this earth to torture incompetent mortals such as myself. Ah well. How's everyone else doing today/tonight/this evening/this afternoon/this morning? Does anyone ever even ask you guys, the readers, that question? Seriously, you guys are our support, our encouragment! And here I am not even knowing how you fair at whatever time of the day you may be at! *sob* Hee. Au revior!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	5. Food of the Gods

A/N: THANX TO Zany: I just have to tell you that your loverly review just brightened up my day! ^__^   
  
Remmy: *whispers* I haven't really figured that part out yet.   
  
superman cant walk: I went from an F to a C in algebra! Go me, go!   
  
Lady Rillen: Goodness, lovey, you had me blushing in my own home!! *giggles*   
  
Kimmy: *salutes jerkily* Yes, ma'am!!   
  
~~~~O_o*  
  
Chapter Five: The Food of the Gods  
  
Merlin's beard, thought Harry, Why ever did I think it wise to give Draco *that* much sugar? He watched his lover with wry bemusement as Draco practically bounced off the walls, spraying Jelly Tots all over the floor while swinging his arms and not bothering to monitor the rip in the bag. Harry ducked as two jellies stuck together whizzed past his head and Draco warbled happily, planting himself down in the middle of the floor and noisily licking his fingers.  
  
Not to mention giving him that cheering potion, Harry chided himself darkly as Draco flopped onto his back, writhing like a cat and singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" dreadfully off key (not that the young man *could* ever hit the notes). Perhaps a quick bang over the head with a frying pan would be the quickest way out of this tedious situation..... Nah, he doubted a rabid elephant of iron could douse Draco's sudden - if artificial and sugar induced - hyperactivity. In short, Harry was going to have to face the music and deal with his lover's loud and rambunctious behavior until he hit the utmost low of his sugar high and lugged around the house, flopping onto everything and moaning piteously like a dying Sasquatch. Who knew, maybe they could spend some of that pent up energy later, after Harry finished the barely started letter to his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. After all, he hadn't spoken to them in over a month, and Hermione *was* expecting their first (and more than likely last) child.  
  
His hand hovered over the parchment, which on was written less than two sentences. Well, if you counted the date and a 'Hey mates' as sentences. But it was awfully hard with Draco now convinced that he was nothing short of an abnormally huge queen hornet who was laying eggs. Least to say, it was rather distracting.  
  
"Can you please go entertain yourself elsewhere!" snapped Harry, all too aware he sounded like his old teacher, Professor McGonnagal.  
  
Draco gave him the wateriest, sappiest, sweetest, most incredibly hurt puppy face that Harry had ever seen and the raven haired man felt he had done the greatest wrong.  
  
"Oh!" he wailed, flinging himself onto Draco, "Can you forgive me!?!"  
  
Draco patted his back distantly, his wide eyes wandering to the kitchen. Dumping Harry in a heap on the floor, Draco rocketed into the connecting room and broke into the pantry. Harry crawled up onto his knees and knew that the worst had come.  
  
He caught the pack of "Rowntree's Jelly Tots" and rolled his eyes. Draco got himself several bags, ripping them open and pouring the whole of the contents into his mouth; all in one go. Harry could just stare blankly. Some stray powder whispered up into Draco's nose as he was chewing enthusiastically and next Harry knew, Draco was choking, coughing, and sneezing the jelly candies all at once. Unfortunately, Harry was directly in the line of fire and got pelted with the soggy gummies in the face. He cringed.  
  
Draco finally toppled over, gasping for breath and picking up the Tots all over the floor, popping them cheerfully back into his mouth. Then, mouth stuffed, he turned to a very irritable Harry - who at the moment had a grape Tot hanging determinedly from his nose - and exclaimed heartily, spitting out more jellies, "Best damn candy in all of England, I say!"  
  
Harry didn't even bother to clean himself off, but tried instead to write. Draco took care of the jellies, nipping them from Harry's face, clothes, and hair. *That* proved to be even more distracting then the damned queen bee. It also proved to bring up a rather tasty memory, and Harry found himself chuckling, cradling Draco in his lap as the sugar began to take it's toll on his partner. He leaned back, the letter forgotten.....  
  
  
..... He was cornered. Again. Why did his sessions with Draco always seem to end this way, Harry would never know. Draco probably did it on purpose, damn him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Draco," said Harry sheepishly, pressing into the tight corner of a back hall as Draco leaned into him, sharp elbow resting right next to Harry's ear. The Slytherin had gotten increasingly intense ever since he had had his way with Harry. "I can't keep leaving without explanation like this. Ron and Hermione are weirded out enough as it is," he reasoned desperately to the impassive countinence of the Slytherin, "Soon theyll go to Dumbledore and demand to know if he's got me in secret training or something-"  
  
"You must really enjoy the sound of your own voice," said Draco tonelessly, inspecting his nails and shining them against Harry's flushed cheek, "Because you're really not making any sense, Potter. You're not *denying* me, are you?" A delicate eyebrow arched in feral interest and Harry shrank into himself, sputtering unintelligibly.  
  
"No! It's just that - well, I'm sure you have countless people who could take my place and make you a lot happier. I - I mean, they won't have friends always breathing down their necks and stuff."  
  
"Or your nervous problem? Stuttering speech? Lanky body? Your blatant naivete?"  
  
Harry stared at the other boy, wide eyed. His breath fogged up his glasses, his head sunk down into the collar of his robes. "Well, I guess-"  
  
"Because you *must* know that you're not anywhere *near* as perfect as myself, or even others in this bloody school."  
  
"Yes-"  
  
The gray eyes peered up at the ceiling with patient frustration. "Don't you see, you dull clod? Maybe I like that."  
  
Harry was struck dumb, as Draco calmly reminded him he was, leaning back and pulling Harry with him sporting the same impenetrable calmness. The boy gracefully swung Harry around until he slammed into a small table holding a precious vase and was forced to bend back over the edge of the table, gasping as the sharp corner dug ruthlessly into his spine. Draco increased the pressure just slightly, until Harry began to plead quietly in a small voice. Then he let up and said flatly, "If they're distracted...."  
  
"Y-yes, Draco."  
  
"Very well then. I'll see you at dinner."  
  
"Oh.... oh." Harry raised his hand in a weak farewell as Draco disappeared down the hall, robes billowing out behind him, not unlike a certain Potions professor. Harry felt his knees go weak and he clutched the side of the table, leaning on it heavily and taking down his glasses, rubbing them on the front of his robes to clear away the steam clinging to the think lenses.  
  
Dreading what Draco had planned (for he knew the Slytherin had a plan of *something*, he knew the boy that well enough), Harry plodded slowly down the hall, making a pit stop at the corner where Draco had first trapped him to gather his things. In the dorm he found Ron and carefully put in place the mask of joking happiness. They waited for Seamus to get out of the loo, and all the boys from the dorm went down to lunch together, meeting some of the girls on their way.  
  
The Great Hall was decorated extravagantly as usual, the sky a storming evening of grays and flashes of white. But Harry barely noticed. He scarcely talked through the whole meal, continuously shooting suspicious glances at the Slytherin table where his beautiful Draco laughed and sneered along with the others, pointedly ignoring the obvious staring aimed at his person.   
  
"Hey, Harry!" Dean waved a hand in front of his face and snapped his fingers. Neville said something about Snape having been especially spiteful towards Harry earlier and everyone pretty much left him to his thoughts and his weary nerves.  
  
I wonder if he's healthy for me, thought Harry dejectedly, only half listening as Hermione and Ron got into a heated argument over Gilderoy Lockhart. He snapped out of it when Seamus actually got to his feet and started bellowing on, trying to reach over everyone else. A couple of others got to their feet and Harry realized that practically the whole table had risen to the argument. Even some Ravenclaws had gotten to their feet. Harry shuddered, wondering if this could be enough of a distraction to sate the Slytherin. That way, no one got hurt or humiliated by the Slytherin to keep the school's attention while the two boys slipped away.  
  
Less than a minute later, Harry found out it was not at all.  
  
Dumbledore turned a blind eye to the students' behavior, saying once, and only once when Snape raised a protest, that the children would be doing good in exercising their debating skills and independant opinion. Snape sat back down, muttering darkly under his breath that he highly doubted the subject of Gilderoy Lockhart to pose as a formidable study guide and example of independant thinking. The whole bloody world was going to Hell, and the mashed potatoes were cold, dammit.  
  
That was when Draco sprung the attack and hit Seamus in the side of the face with a huge bowl of rice pudding.  
  
Seamus stood on top of the table, dripping in the white gook. It took a few minutes before people (including Seamus himself) started to laugh. He began to step down from the table, deciding that the rice pudding had been the ending remark of the argument, which had branched off to the subject of Hermione's failed project of SPEW. Unfortunately (or *fortunately*, really depending on opinion) he was wrong, and it was only the beginning.  
  
Draco, who Harry had earlier learned to be able to throw his voice rather well, bellowed at the top of his lungs into the milling crowd of lightly laughing students, "FOOOOOOD FIGHT!!!!"  
  
It was then all Hell broke loose. Harry had the fleeting image of tiny Professor Flitwick diving beneath the teacher's table before he was walloped in the head by a jiggling mass of lime jello. People started choosing teams, and even the teachers joined in, rallying their houses and bellowing orders to their makeshift troops. Dumbledore had somehow changed into the striped robes of a referee and floated happily above the messy mix of food and people, keeping track of hits on a giant scoreboard levitating above the crowd.  
  
Harry was yanked down under a table, narrowly missing getting bludgeoned with a thick leg of turkey by Snape, who had decided the Hell with it, and grabbed the nearest cooked foul, his sights on Harry.  
  
Gray eyes danced with mirth and Harry marveled at the Slytherin for a short minute before he was being dragged through the whole mess of people. From above, more food started dropping as Dumbledore spelled the ceiling to rain food. When he stumbled through the doorway, Harry caught a glimpse of Neville, who had burrowed inside a mountain of chairs, hoarding food.  
  
As the doors swung shut, Harry grinned at the sight of Hermione leaping on the top of a table, uttering a deafening war cry, and tackling Millicent Bullstrode into a huge mountainous cake.  
  
The quiet of the empty classroom rung in Harry's ears. He stood in the middle of the room, scratching his head and wrinkling his nose at what he pulled from the sticky strands of hair. Draco was working on the door, locking it and making sure no one was around. They had almost been caught by Filch once in a broom closet. Luckily Peeves had set fire to the Charms classroom and they had been spared. Though Draco later told Harry as the Gryffindor lay breathing heavily against his chest, skin moist with sweat, "I would've just invited him to join us. Then he wouldn't have spilled a word." Harry had just gawked at him and then been informed that Draco liked it best when he looked that way, all stupid and Griffindorey.  
  
Now the Slytherin shut the door, reapplying more locking charms on the inside. Done, he surveyed his work with a critical eye, hands resting on his tapered hips. Harry took a moment to look enviously over Draco's perfectly styled hair with annoyance. The boy had managed to escape any food! How he did it, Harry didn't even think he wanted to follow up the answer on that question. Draco was Draco, there was nothing else to it.   
  
His thoughts were interrupted by Draco's hand pushing aside the fabric of his robes. When he stood shaking in his boxers, arms crossed tightly over his torso, Draco stood back and gave him an odd, searching look, before lithely stripping himself. Harry diverted his eyes and Draco's brow furrowed. He walked over to Harry and took his chin roughly, lifting his face and glaring at the other boy. As his heated glare was returned with a pitiful whimper, Draco sighed and ran his tongue from the corner of Harry's eye to the point of his chin. Harry closed his eyes.  
  
Cold stung and bit at the shrinking flesh of Harry's back. He gasped, his breath hitching. Draco ignored it and continued to tongue bathe the Gryffindor, yanking down the scarlet boxers over the pale jutting hips. He paused and Harry tensed. White hands traced over the bone at Harry's side and the boy sucked on his lower lip, eyes wide with worry. Draco rocked back on the balls of his feet, glaring at him in a way Harry had never before seen.  
  
With a casual wave of his wand, Draco took the food coating Harry off of the slim body and pressed his lips into a thin line. Harry sat up, terrified. What had he done wrong?  
  
"Why haven't you been eating?" asked Draco bluntly, his eyes going to Harry's too sharply defined ribs. "No - tell me, Potter," he said coldly as Harry sputtered out an answer, "No excuses. I've been noticing you stopped eating as much at meals. What the hell is wrong?"  
  
How would you even notice, Harry wanted to shout, You never even acknowledge my existence! Instead, he lied quietly, "Just working extra hard at Quidditch, that's all. All the extra practice leaves me a little drained and - and my stomach can't really handle it-"  
  
"Cut the shite, Potter." Draco was now very close to Harry. For some reason, Harry was overcome with fear as the strong fingers poked and prodded him. He gave a small cry as Draco jerked him roughly by his thin shoulders, demanding the truth from him. Harry cursed himself as his head bowed, hiding away the tears rimming his eyes. "Has someone hurt you," demanded Draco, and Harry looked up, amazed by the hatred under the quiet tone. But Draco's eyes burned and Harry realized that Draco was actually sincere.  
  
"No," he said, a little bewildered. What was going on? Now that he thought about it, everything had been strange lately. He had heard, in the halls, people talking about how Draco has just.... stopped. They said the famous Slytherin had finally found someone. But no one knew who.  
  
"Dammit. C'mon." Harry was yanked to his feet and dressed with a hard gentleness by Draco. He watched the blonde in a thoughtful awe and didn't make a sound as he was led to the portrait of fruit. Draco tickled the pear and ducked inside the entrance, pulling Harry in behind him.  
  
House elves flooded around their ankles and Harry waved at a scraggly little Doby, who waved happily back until he caught sight of Draco, whereas he squeaked and bolted. He quickly forgot about the house elf when he and Draco were seated at a table and served dishes of Hogwarts' finest. Draco artfully selected a meal for Harry, glancing back at him every other dish, as if comparing the food to the boy. Finally Harry was looking at a five course dinner containing every required food group. Draco watched him eat with a closed, impassive look. Harry found it nerve wracking, but said nothing. Whenever he slowed in his eating, Draco would raise his chin up off his hands and give Harry a warning look. Harry wondered if this was what it was like to have a mother.  
  
"I really can't eat any more," he insisted weakly to the house elves, who still offered him plates of food after second helpings of everything. He felt thoroughly stuffed, and happy when he turned to see Draco smiling. They both went over and sat in front of the fire where Harry had seen Crouch's house elf before. Draco drank a butter beer and made light conversation, something Harry had never known him to do before. With Draco, it was all strictly physical. This was definitely new. But nice, definitely nice.  
  
With his head resting comfortably in Draco's lap, Harry let his mind wander. The more he thought about it, the more the rumors he had heard thrown about could prove to be true. Had Draco found someone indeed. Was that someone him? Too scared to ask, Harry nuzzled the Slytherin's hand as it lightly petted his cheek. Hands moved over his face, cupping his chin and angling his head upwards to accept Draco's moist lips in an interesting upside down kiss. Harry smiled against Draco's mouth, parting his lips to take Draco's tongue, stroking the probing muscle with his own softly. Yes, *very* interesting.  
  
House elves stopped their work momentarily to watch the two boys, their profiles sharply defined by the dancing orange flames of the fire. Two house elves carrying a tray of cookies and hot chocolate crept up quietly and deposited their load next to the boys, scuttling away as Draco pressed down on top of Harry lengthwise, tangling his long fingers in the ebony locks and plucking the glasses from the pretty face.  
  
Harry moaned quietly, suckling Draco's tongue and rubbing the arched back in wide circles before moving lower to grasp at rounded flesh. Draco hissed in his ear, biting at his shoulder. For some reason, the atmosphere and the events and possibilities of the evening made Harry feel..... alive. He usually let Draco take the lead, but now it seemed appropriate that he give a little also.  
  
Draco made a small sound in the back of his throat as he found himself rolled onto his back, Harry arching his body into him with a smooth feline grace. The house elves gave each other looks, but did nothing.  
  
"I guess you've decided to turn the tables, then," groaned Draco, grinding his hips into Harry.   
  
"For tonight, lover," Harry breathed onto Draco's vulnerable throat, "You're going to feel what it is to be mine." Draco purred, moving beneath him beautifully, regarding Harry in a new light, veiled by his heavy black lashes, shaded like feathers of ink over his bone white cheeks. Harry shot him a coy smile and grasped both of Draco wrists tightly in his hand, holding them firmly above Draco's head.  
  
"Harry," Draco chuckled, licking the side of the boy's face, "You are right for the food of the Gods-" The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a low groan. The house elves did nothing, and continued to work.....  
  
  
..... "Harry James Potter! Where exactly did all my creamy peanut butter go? You wouldn't be *eating* it, would you, darling," purred Draco lethally from inside the kitchen. He was on a mission to find his peanut butter, his invincible medicine that when mixed with bananas, worked magic on him, body and spirit.   
  
Harry froze, hand (covered in gloppy layers of peanut butter) stuck halfway into his mouth. Being as Harry was the one to have to deal with Draco's hyper spell, he thought it rightfully deserved that he get some of the precious peanut butter. Unfortunetely, the jar sat right in view of the prowling blonde, anchored between his knees, almost entirely emptied of its sticky continents. He heard Draco starting towards the door and tried to say something, but his whole mouth was stopped up with peanut butter. He panicked.  
  
"Love, what are you-" Draco froze, eyebrow piqued with a cynical amusement as his gaze traveled over the odd scene before him: Harry's bright eyes were bugged out of his head and one hand shoved halfway down in his pants. "Well, well, well," cooed Draco smoothly, "I can see you're in the middle of - ah - *something*, so I'll just duck back in here until your done." He grinned evilly and gave Harry an exaggerated wink before disappearing. Harry let out a huge sigh and stared dismally down at the improbable bulge in his pants. Damn jar was cold too! "Leave it to me, the great Gryffindor - known for their genius plans - to think of such a spontaneous idea as stuffing the bloody peanut butter jar that has been sitting in the fridge, out of Draco's sight by using my pants as the safe house. Merlin."   
  
Just as he was slipping the jar out, Draco leapt back into the living room and shrieked triumphantly, "AHA!! I *thought* so, you little thief." He stomped over and yanked the jar from Harry's hands, adding over his shoulder flippantly as he sailed through the kitchen doorway, "Oh, and by the way.... next time you want to hide the fact that you were pigging out on MY creamy peanut butter, remember to wipe your bloody - er - peanut buttery mouth, doll. That might just clue me in a bit. Nice try, though." He paused and turned back to Harry, a mischievous glint in his eye. "For a Gryffindor and all."  
  
A/N: Anyone ever had Rowntree's Jelly Tots? I was in Spokane and stumbled across this spiffy little British shop. I got a packet and liked them so much, I had to put them in a story! And R/Hr will be coming in the future, too! Anyhooslers, sorry for the delay of posting this. I had to finish another story and that took over all my time. Au revoir!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	6. snerk Eeeeeeew! Good Lord!

A/N: THANX TO Lady Rillen: *giggles* I assure you, no need for your biting demon, dearie! Remmy: *sobs* I have this nasty habit of making our Draco sentimental! Agh! DragonMage: Yup, he's kook alright. Fanny chan: Jelly Tots.... *drool* AshFarley: I am honored and just tinkled pink by your pleasing praise, lovey. Merci bocous. blue eyed babe: Righto, dollface! LB: Heeho, thanks, darlin'! TheUnknownJedi: *squeals* I'm so flattered!   
  
Chapter Six: *snerk* Eeeeeeew! Good Lord!  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you, too - you daft twit."  
  
Draco grinned impishly up at Harry, who rolled his jade eyes and gently stroked the blonde's brow. They sat under a huge weeping willow by the side of their calm lake, the slimmer young man lying back into Harry's chest, nestled cozily between the black haired man's long legs. Draco had found the spot a year back when he and Harry had gotten into a fight. It had reminded him so much of Hogwarts..... he had gone running back to Harry, stifling any remaining protests the former Gryffindor still had to voice and dragged him to the spot. A dark shadow, dotted with tiny specks of moonlight, winking in and out of existence as a cool wind stirred the light green leaves reflecting in the moonlight.  
  
A tickle in his throat rose to a fierce viscosity and Draco started coughing. Concerned, Harry rubbed his back and held up a cup of hot cocoa. Draco took the mug appreciatively, and sneezed. Pursing his lips, Harry said sternly, "I don't know why you're out here in this cold. Merlin knows it's my own fault. C'mon, get up." He tugged on Draco's sleeve, but the former Slytherin was overtaken by a fit of coughing. Harry waited patiently for it to stop before glaring hotly at his partner and jabbing a finger in the direction of their cabin, where a thin spiral of spoke spilled from the rickety chimney. The blonde grumbled moodily, his throat rasping, and trudged back along the lakeside, the frost lined grass stabbing at his feet.  
  
Just about to step over a fallen, moss eaten log, Draco gasped as two strong arms uplifted him and he was swung into Harry's warm embrace. Suffering another coughing fit, Draco could only roll his streaming eyes. Harry grinned as Draco said hoarsely, "A regular prince in shining armor, eh?"  
  
Shortly following, Draco was all tucked up in their bed, looking like a tiny Babushka baby all bundled up. He could do naught but give Harry pleading looks and sniffle pitifully. Harry (in his motherly element) rushed around the house, proving that he was a very multitaskable boy. Soup on the stove, heat pads over the fire, getting blankets, giving Draco a slice of lemon to suck on..... and still struggling to write his friends a blasted letter!  
  
"Oh, Harry," simpered Draco in mock misery, "You don't *have* to do all this. Little old me can't be worth all the trouble....." He coughed weakly and sank back into the goose down pillows and blankets. It was like floating on air.  
  
Harry was about to point out that if he didn't, Draco would most likely bludgeon him with a honey glazed ham, when something thin and light hit him in the head. Usually one wouldn't think that a envelope would do much damage, but Harry had woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, then fell out of it, right into the soggy bowl of oatmeal he had eaten last night. So he wasn't surprise in the least when the letter sliced past the soft skin right bellow his eye, leaving a ribbon of blood. Stumbling back, clutching at his stinging eye, he realized that he had not yet washed the juice of the lemon he had given Draco from his hands. The former Slytherin sat, very amused indeed, in the bed as Harry went hopping around the small cabin, howling. Then the black haired man stepped in the same bowl of oatmeal he had fallen into earlier, toppling to the ground and sprawling there limply, his nose shoved right into the brown paper of the letter.  
  
"You're a regular Fred Astaire, Harry darling," Draco called smugly from the bed, wheezing in peels of laughter. Harry would've retorted, but he had forgotten his position when he saw the letter and the dainty, neat writing over the front of it.  
  
"Look, Draco! It's a letter from Ron and Hermione!"  
  
"Really. I thought that some restless Death Eaters had thought to get you in the simplest way: shoot a piece of paper through the window and let you take care of the rest. Merlin, I don't know how you managed to survive-"  
  
"They say they'll be down at the pub later today. We can meet them for lunch."  
  
"With my condition!?" The blonde sniffled pathetically and gave Harry a merciless puppy face.  
  
Harry regarded him with an arched eyebrow before he squawked as the soup started to boil over on the stove.  
  
"Here you are. Eat it up and you'll be right as rain!"  
  
"Speaking of rain," bubbled Draco innocently, "Being that it is runny and wet - could I see your arm for an eensy weensy wittle moment?"  
  
"Uhh-"  
  
"Thanks, love," whined Draco nasally, dragging his nose over Harry's sweater sleeve, leaving a clear trail of snottillage. Harry wrinkled his nose.  
  
"No problem," he replied glumly.....  
  
  
.....Yet again, here he was wandering the halls in search of his silver God. He felt rather foolish, always being the one to do the looking and finding. Though to have Draco waiting for him, half naked if he was feeling generous, was well worth any stroll through the ice cold corridors.   
  
But Draco had not turned up at any of their normal meeting places. Harry wasn't worried though. It wasn't like Draco saw him *every* night. Was it? He thought back over the last couple days, weeks, months. Funny, ever since the little smoking incident, Draco and himself had been together almost every single night. He'd never really thought about it.  
  
Harry, so immersed in his musings, didn't hear the two Slytherin prefects until it was almost too late. At the last second before they came into view of him, he dove under a long table lining the wall, tucking himself against the back leg. Holding his breath, he caught some of what they said.  
  
".... was furious. He'll be in the infirmary for at least another day. Don't know how it happened either. Philip told me that a bunch of Gryffindors were walking past the locker rooms and Draco just missed my call and collided with a bludger. I think Potter was with them."  
  
The other girl snorted. "Draco will make Potter pay for distracting him. I doubt they'd even be allowed near the training grounds!" The two prefects stopped in front of the table, the taller of the two leaning against it. Harry faced the back of her legs while the other continued.  
  
"You know, now that I think about it, Draco's been acting kind of funny lately."  
  
"Since the food fight?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Probably got some pudding in his perfect hair."  
  
"Potter probably put it there."  
  
They started off down the hall and Harry expelled his breath slowly, waiting tensely for their voices to fade. Draco in the infirmary? What could've happened at practice with that bludger? Harry bit his lip. He had been walking with his house mates when the Slytherins were practicing. Seamus had put his arm around Harry for a joke. Draco might have seen and gotten the wrong idea.  
  
"Don't kid yourself, Potter," said Harry bitterly, "Why would he let *you* distract him enough to get hit with a bludger? Get real." But he couldn't chase the thought from his head. Was it possible that Draco had seen Seamus put his arm around Harry and mistaken it for affection? Could Draco possibly be..... *jealous*?  
  
Harry decided to go see the Slytherin. Maybe he would find out more then. Stopping back at Gryffindor, he picked up some chocolate frogs for the blonde and sped down to the infirmary under his cloak.  
  
Draco was the only student in the place. It looked as if he were sleeping, but Harry could never be sure. The boy's arm was in a cast and he had a nasty bruise on his cheek. Harry winced, instantly guilty. He quietly tip toed to the bedside, looking about warily for Pomfrey, and set down the chocolate frogs next to the overwhelming pile of cards and treats. Ignoring the gifts and get wells, Harry clasped his hands together earnestly, brow furrowed with worry. He knew not whether to brush back the tousled hair from Draco's face or pull up the thin white blanket further over the lithe body, covering the white shoulder peeking from under the rough cotton underclothes. Harry frowned. Cotton would be far too rough on Draco's skin. The boy had told him that himself once. By morning the delicate paleness would be pink and chaffed.  
  
Carefully so as not to wake the Slytherin, Harry began deftly undoing the buttons. His own pajamas were much softer. Draco would thank him in the morning. Or at least, make him feel good for doing such a thing. Draco never really said 'thank you'.  
  
About halfway down the row of buttons, Harry froze when the bland voice broke the quiet atmosphere of the white room. "That's rather kinky what you're doing, Potter. If you think about it."  
  
Harry met the amused gray eyes sheepishly and his cheeks colored. Draco pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing only once as he pressured his arm. Eyes wide, Harry rushed to puff up the pillow and pull up the blankets. Draco let him cluck over the bed sheets a little more before stating lightly, "You'll make a great mother one day, Potter." Harry's blush only deepened and Draco cupped the side of his head. "What are you doing here anyway, Potter? Pomfrey could walk in any moment. Not to mention that you interrupted a rather pleasant dream of you losing the Quidditch final and shaming your whole House."  
  
"I was..... I heard you got hurt at practice. I was nearby, so I thought to drop in and make sure you weren't dying or anything."  
  
"Do you always go stalking the halls late at night?"  
  
Harry glared at the cool blonde. "Would you rather me stop?"  
  
Draco avoided the question smoothly. "When I told you to eat, I didn't mean devour the whole Great Hall. How many helpings did you have at dinner?"  
  
"Ron and I were having a contest."  
  
"Typical Gryffindor behavior."  
  
"Can we please have decent conversation for once?" Harry pleaded.  
  
"I suppose. The weather was shitty today. How about you?"  
  
"Can you at least try and make light of this? You're probably not even in pain. I've dealt with a lot worse."  
  
"If you could be missing classes like Divination and Transfiguration, you'd flinch a little more than needed. What Potter, do you miss me already?"  
  
"How can I miss you when you're right here in front of me?"  
  
"I meant this....." Draco leaned forward, brushing their lips. Harry gasped when he drew back. "Really, Potter, you're just *too* much." Grinning in a sly, cheshire way, Draco cupped Harry's chin in his working hand and drew the darker boy forward, crushing their lips together in an insatiable kiss that left Harry breathless when the blonde broke it.  
  
"Are you going to sit there all night, or will you come in this god forsaken bed and keep me warm? The bloody idiots didn't even have the decency to put socks on my feet." Draco wiggled his bare toes and pouted. Though his pout was wiped from his face as Harry crawled under the sheets and practically attacked the down turned mouth. Draco allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, reveling in the familiar weight and feel of Harry stretching out over his prone body.  
  
The Gryffindor straddled Draco, looking down at him with a sweet and concerned innocence that chipped away at Draco's heart. Shaking his head, Draco reached up and removed Harry's glasses, placing them on the bedside table, and wriggled beneath The Boy Who Lived. Harry chuckled, pinning both broken and whole arm on either side of Draco's waist, capturing his mouth. Draco gently suckled on Harry's tongue, rolling over so that they lay face to face on their sides. Harry placed a hand on Draco's hip and nuzzled the slender neck.  
  
Feeling truly tired now, after drinking a potion given to him by Madam Pomfrey, Draco gave Harry one last warm kiss before snuggling up to the Gryffindor, seeking warmth. Harry drew his arms up around the boy and held him closely. When Draco was fast asleep, Harry bowed his head and kissed the fine Angel hairs, knowing very well that Draco would have not allowed such prominent affection. He smiled; Draco looked so small and vulnerable. A tiny cherub all grown into the Angel who had fallen. Harry gently fingered the kissed crimson lips and stroked the flushed cheeks.  
  
Beautiful.....  
  
  
..... Draco blew his nose and tossed the dripping tissue onto the growing pile, ringing the cow bell he had found while crawling pathetically about. Harry skidded into the room, half dressed and wild eyed.  
  
"What is it!"  
  
"All de tissues are god."  
  
"Merlin, Draco! You have a wand."  
  
"I'll say de spell wrog ad ed up a cat or sobething."  
  
"Not if you try *really* hard. C'mon, Draco. I need to get ready. You put up enough fight when I was trying to dress you, now I barely have time to run a brush through my hair!"  
  
"What would be the poidt id sobething like that?"  
  
"Lost all sense of smell and taste, but you somehow kept your lovely humor. Funny how the world works, eh?"  
  
Apparently the former Slytherin felt well enough to raise a single clearly defined finger.  
  
"Thought so. Now try and rest up, love. I'll be another ten minutes or so, and you don't want Ron making fun of you or anything."  
  
"Oh bloody hell."  
  
"Nah, probably Ron's bloody nose. You're in a very trite mood today."  
  
"Go try ad brush your bloody, stigky, sbelly, ratty..... hair!"  
  
"Yessir!!" Harry saluted tersely and gave Draco a dashing lopsided grin. The former Slytherin pursed his lips, sniffling noisily. Why did that blasted Potter have to be so damned irresistible. Draco sighed. Damn Gryffindors.  
  
~*~  
  
"See, the clean air cleared up your nose in no time!"  
  
"Ah yes. Just ducky. Now all I have to contend with on this *glorious* day is the lovely Ron Weasly. Please may I go get myself run over by a truck."  
  
"Why not a double decker? Those buses, I love them."  
  
"I don't think you realize how difficult I'm finding it not to go stuff your head in a toilet and flush it."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, slinging his arms around Draco's shoulders.Draco ducked smoothly out of Harry's grip and spun on his heel. "I think I'll go off and shoe shop." But Harry grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back, stumbling, into his arms. Draco tried feebly to pull away, gave up, and let Harry cradle him against his wiry chest. "It's always weird. And that blasted Weasly is always picking fights-"  
  
"No, Draco," corrected Harry, looking down his nose at the blonde, "Ron hasn't picked a fight with you since school."  
  
"He somehow infiltrates my mind and controls me. So it's all his fault."  
  
"I'm sure."  
  
"Oh, you know those Aurors. They're weirdoes."  
  
"Sirius is an Auror!"  
  
"Point?"  
  
The pub was relatively crowded when the two men arrived. Draco made a bee line for the bar, but Harry hooked his leg around the blonde's knee, sending him careening into padded seat. He warned the shorter man not to run off as he got drinks, and then he left Draco moping at their table.  
  
"Draco? Draco!" Oh holy Christ. Granger.  
  
"Hello Hermione," Draco ground out civilly through clenched teeth. Then his eyes met Weasly's and the world darkened; the skies above stormed, the seas below toiled, and all the elders of the world shivered and spoke to their bones-  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"Weasly."  
  
Ron took a deep breath. "Your looking-"  
  
"You look worse anyway, as always." Nodding to a beaming Hermione, Draco weaved through the mingling crowd of wizards to get a jump start off his peachy mood.  
  
"If you will, Ginny, I want a double."  
  
"A double, Draco? My brother must be in town."  
  
"Ginny, don't let him have a drop!" Harry bounded over, whisking the raised glass right from under Draco's nose. The former Slytherin growled dangerously as Harry shook a finger at him. "No. Ron and Hermione are expecting a nice lunch with us today."  
  
"And let the Angels sing. May I please go kill myself?"  
  
"No," said Harry firmly, "And besides, Ron would be furious if he missed out on such an event."  
  
"Well, that just makes me feel all warm and fluffy inside."  
  
Ginny leaned forward and gingerly lifted the cocoa mug from Harry's hands. The two men watched as she poured a couple shots of something into the cocoa. Then she handed it to Draco, grinning. "You'll be feeling fluffy soon enough, Draco."  
  
Harry winked at her and drew Draco away, who was staring glumly at his cup. "You owe me for this, Potter."  
  
Harry looked momentarily regretful. "Don't I know it."   
  
The afternoon continued unabashed. Ron sat as far from Draco as possible, and the Slytherin did the same. Hermione did most of the talking, Harry gripping her hand and running his thumb over her palm. They were really close, those two. Draco had to admit that the young woman looked positively exuberant. Her dark hair fell in graceful curls around her flushed face, filled round and gleeful. She carried a certain.... glow about her. Weasley on the other hand was paler than usual, his narrow face colored only by the light copper freckles and twin points of deep red cresting the sharp bones of his gaunt cheeks. Draco thought he looked like a very lanky ogre.  
  
"Ack, my throat's getting dry! I think I'll get myself something. Ooh, I'm craving some nice warm milk!"  
  
"Mione," said Ron, half rising, "You should rest-"  
  
"No!" she snapped. The men fell silent. Her face switched again to a happy expression and she motioned for Harry. "Will you come and pick up these guys' drinks, then? I don't think I would trust myself, and Ron's been working so hard lately!" She started off, bumping along joyfully, humming some unintelligible tune. Harry cast a wary glance at the redhead and the blonde before following his friend, steadying her when she swayed by the bar, nearly toppling over before howling at Ginny and telling her how pretty she looked. Ginny gawked at her old friend, looking back and forth to the pregnant woman and herself; all greasy.  
  
Draco plucked a chip from the bowl sitting in the middle of the table and stuck it in his mouth along with a swig of cocoa and a marshmallow. He started chewing slowly, watching Ron fixedly, causing the redhead to squirm.  
  
"What are you at, Malfoy?" Ron glared at him, his cheeks darkening. Draco smacked his lips loudly in reply.  
  
"I would've thought you couldn't get any less mature, and yet here you go surprising us all again."  
  
"So Weasly, do you like SEE food?"  
  
Ron barely piqued an eyebrow. "You're lame, Malfoy. It's rather sad."  
  
"I'm also very tipsy at the moment."  
  
"This is new to me?"  
  
"To who?"  
  
"Me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"More coooocoooooaaa....."  
  
"Will you quit plucking at my sleeve like that! We're all adults."  
  
Draco plucked with more enthusiasm, tongue between his teeth.  
  
"Did you hear me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm deaf."  
  
"No you're not!"  
  
"Yes I am, dammit!"  
  
Harry nearly dropped the glasses he was holding and dashed between the two men, who had risen to their feet. "Stop it, you two!"  
  
"He started it," grumbled Draco, snatching his mai tai from Harry.  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Liar liar, pants on fire!"  
  
"Why, you-"  
  
"OH MY LORD!! MY WATER BROKE!!" Hermione blanched. "HONESTLY!!"  
  
A.N: I hate this chapter with a passion! It could've been so much more than what it is, but I failed miserably. Please don't give up hope on this story yet! I've actually developed a STORYLINE *thunderclap*!! Give me another chance!! *sobs and grovels* P.S: What shall Hr/R's little "its" name be? And what shall the sex be? I'm leaning toward a girl, but me being a girl and choosing that seems a bit unfair. Vote!! Merci bocous! Au revior!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	7. Kiss and Tell

A/N: THANX TO...   
**DragonMage: Thank you! He is just a cashew, isn't he?   
**AshFarley: *giggles*   
**pastshadows: ^_^   
**Remmy: Yeah, that part seems to be better...   
**Fanny Chan: You think I need MORE?! *_~   
**LB: *waves* ;^P   
**lunaledafe: Hee, tanku.   
**La Princesse D'or: Hey, dollface!   
**TheUnknownJedi: *blush* Aw, ya shouldn't waste your space on me!   
**Darke Angel: Aye aye, cap'n! Katie: Tay. ^___^  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter Seven: Kiss and Tell  
  
"Look Draco, Hermione wrote. Ayserne threw up for the first time yesterday! How exciting!"  
  
"Well, I *was* ravenously hungry anyway." Draco shoved his plate away irritably and pouted, jutting out his lower and lip and hunching down into himself, arms crossed. Harry noticed and rolled his eyes, sending a biscuit careening into Draco's temple. The blonde squawked and flipped out of the chair.  
  
"Lighten up!" he laughed as Draco growled, batting at his hair to rid the fine silky strands of any remaining crumbs. Harry wrinkled his nose at something in the letter and the blonde sighed loudly, gathering his partner's attention. "I have to be at work early today, you know. Sherry had that *thing* to talk to me about. I'm guessing it's a raise - as long as *she* gets to raise something for herself," Draco groaned miserably, "The first thing I told those people was that I was gay! Maybe I should dig up that cheesy one piece suit, then nothing will be getting *raised*....."  
  
Harry's face fell. He set down the letter from Hermione and slid into a chair beside Draco. "I forgot," he said quietly, "When do you leave?" Draco glanced sidelong at his partner and hid a smile. The man looked positively needy, and Draco could easily admit that it made him feel a touch better to have Harry forget everything accept for *him* for a few moments.  
  
"Around twelve or so. I need to take a shower and get dressed, then I'm gone until six." His sly little smile widened when Harry worried his lower lip, sucking on it. It was clear the man didn't want Draco to go to work, but Draco was sick of all this talk of the baby, and bored with nothing to do during the day. So Draco had taken on a job to pass the time. He was quite used to times like these, going through intervals without work, then yearning for some point in waking up early on a Monday. The only thing he didn't like about his job was that the manager's (Sherry, a fifty something year old) hands somehow always found there way to his backside.  
  
"No clinging slacks today...." he murmured when pushing aside suit after suit a half an hour later. He saw Harry slink into the bedroom out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. "It's not the end of the world, you know," he said, maybe a little harsher than he would have liked. Though Harry only looked hurt momentarily before smoothing it over with a casual look while inspecting his fingernails.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry sighed, trying to sound nonchalant, "It's just... we've always had jobs together. Neither of us has really been left alone at home before." Now he sounded really stung. Draco turned around, irritation dissipating into a warm feeling of protectiveness for the dejected looking man, made even more so by his unruly hair and thick rimmed glasses fixed with tape (he always had them that way, no matter what spells Draco had to offer).  
  
"I'll be sure to make it up to you later," Draco teased, throwing his arms around Harry's neck and suckling the flushed pink earlobe.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Stop saying that and quit acting so rejected! You could go visit Ayserne or something, the kid likes you. She doesn't burp nearly as much when I'm around her. I swear she has it in for me."  
  
"That's only because you call her 'Pickle'. Really, Draco."  
  
"She resembles a pickle, it's not my fault! Though I still don't see why they didn't name the mini Weasly after me. Think about it: Dracona Draco Malfoya Weasly. Well, cut off the 'Weasly' part and I say that's a winning name."  
  
"Dracona? Malfoya?"  
  
The blonde became suddenly infatuated with the grandfather clock. "Oh! Would you look at the time? Harry darling, I'm going to be late! Sherry will have an excuse to spank me after all." He gave Harry a sly grin and cut off any protest from the other man with a captivating kiss which Harry melted into, sighing as Draco's slender hands traveled over his back, delving into curves of wiry muscle. He whimpered slightly when Draco drew away and licked along his jaw line.  
  
"Miss me today," Harry breathed against Draco's mouth with a melancholy tone lacing his wispy voice. He lightly fingered Draco's lips, his body already longing for the blonde's touch.  
  
"I already do," Draco whispered back, gently knocking his forehead against Harry's. He drew away and smiled beautifully at his love, lightly brushing his index finger over Harry's jagged scar, lips quirking as the raven haired man gave a small moan, quivering lids falling to cover the turning spring green eyes.   
  
Harry hugged himself tightly as Draco shrugged on his cloak, calling once over his shoulder before he Disapparated, "Anyway, it's a damn better name than Harriet Harry Potterena anyway!"   
  
Harry frowned at the empty space where Draco had just stood.   
  
"Bye."  
  
The house seemed suddenly empty and cold. A shudder passed through the walls as the grandfather clock groaned and hummed the twelve o'clock chimes. Again and again the pendulum swung and the ringing stabbed through the silence. Growing annoyed, Harry walked over and open the small glass door, reaching inside the clock to gently grab hold the pendulum and stop the swinging for seven more turns. Then he let go and made his way to the kitchen to clean up plates, scratching his head and yawning, wondering if it was worth it to even take a shower that day since no one but himself would be smelling anything.  
  
As he walked toward the bathroom with his towel and robe as slow and melancholy as a funeral procession, he glanced up at the mantle and paused, depression and loneliness already sweeping over him. Gently he fingered the glass case holding a single snow white feather that had belonged to Hedwig. It glimmered in the airy afternoon light and Harry found tears prickling his eyes. Angrily, he rubbed them away and busied himself in the shower. It would wake him up, maybe today would be good for some housework begging to be done-  
  
Three hours later and plenty of cold water since the hot had run out fifteen minutes into his shower, Harry stumbled out of the bathroom, even more depressed than before.   
  
I'm being stupid, he chided himself. You always tend to fret - and talk to yourself - when Draco's away. And your fingers are all wrinkly, dammit.  
  
"But he's my other half," he argued, throwing himself on the couch dejectedly. When he closed his eyes in the lonely silence, a sad smile kissed his mouth. "'What To Do When One Is Bored'. Why the hell don't people write *useful* books anymore!" Harry rolled onto his side, one arm flopping over to drag limp fingers on the floor. Draco had been gone now for what seemed to be a thousand stubborn eternity's. Harry was going out of his mind. Why did Draco feel the need to get a job anyway? They had money, they had each other. That was all either needed!  
  
Maybe he's getting sick of me, Harry groaned mentally, wringing his wrists. But no, that wouldn't happen. They'd been through so much together, such hard times. Choices had been forced on the both of them, along with responsibilities and great weight. Through that they had come through and Harry loved Draco more than words could ever describe.....  
  
  
..... A deadly quiet voice broke through the night, stinging right next to his ear, "You think I enjoy to be left waiting like that, Potter?"  
  
He had known he would have to face Draco sometime. Practice had been running late, and along with helping Fred get to the infirmary - Harry hadn't made it to the abandoned classroom in time. Added to that, he received a detention from Snape for messing up the hallway with his muddy robes and shoes. Luckily McGonnagal had been there too, one of the only times Harry was glad she was around when he was in trouble. She held the Potions Master back from deducting even *more* points.  
  
Snape had sneered at Harry over McGonnagal's shoulder as the woman puffed up like a frog. "This school is dirty enough!" she roared, "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but until you get it that the showers in the bathrooms are for actual use, I'm going to have to take an action upon your messy behavior. Ten points from Gryffindor."  
  
Snape rubbed his hands together with glee and pushed his luck. "Are you sure you don't mean *thirty* points? This *is* such a big spot of mud, trailing all the way-"  
  
"Don't push it, Severus."  
  
Now Harry was kneeling down in mud and a bed of soggy lichen, twining his hands tightly in the slimy fungus and face growing hot as Draco continued to assault him with hissing, angry words that attacked everything from himself to his dead parents. Before he could think to defend himself and explain (not that that *ever* really worked), Draco had suddenly shoved him and Harry found himself staring rather dazedly up at Draco from the wet ground. The Slytherin's mouth twisted into a leering smirk. Shivers racked Harry's spine, and liquid seeped through the threads of his light cloak and bit at his skin. But none of this seemed to concern him. What did indeed concern him was the calmly livid blonde watching him with a face like an ivory mask. Harry carefully picked his glasses up from a puddle and looked at them dismally. He went to put them back on his nose when a rigid elfin hand whipped out and snatched them from his fingers, throwing them into a bush.  
  
"Ah!" Harry lunged after them, but the same rigid hand closed around the collar of his shirt and he was yanked back into a laying down position, now experiencing a slight anger building towards the boy who regarded him as if he were nothing but a worn old toy. The only thing he could see clearly in the slightly out of focus face were the sharp eyes, now burning.  
  
Wiping the mud from his face and dragging himself away, Harry glared at Draco angrily, and moved to say - yell - scream something at the icy Slytherin.  
  
Quicker and smoother than a viper, Draco swept down, his knees barely brushing the ground, and pressed a finger to Harry's lips. The digit was ice cold and Harry cringed away from it, his eyes going up to Draco's, and blinking away the growing rapidity of rain droplets dripping through the leaves on the trees. They streamed down his face and dripped from the tendrils of black. His face was stark white in the half light, mouth a bright and angry red from how long he had been worrying his lips. His scar stood out as a crooked black ink mark on his forehead, eyes a sparkling and turbid green as a jungle pool.  
  
Draco watched him silently and Harry remembered what he had thought at the Quidditch match when this whole affair had started. No one ever takes advantage of Draco Malfoy. No one ever gets the better of the Slytherin. And suddenly Harry felt fear. He felt fear of the boy in front of him, fear of the lightning flashing above and striking up the white tendrils of fire in Draco's eyes, fear of how the halo of silver crackled in the dying light, fear of the feelings in turmoil within him. Fear of the failure of his own voice resisting the need to make some sort of sound. Fear of the fact Draco was so close to him and touching him, peeling back his cloak in silence, never their eyes breaking, never breaking the hold Harry was in, nor the fear that clung to his skin inside the tiny crystalline droplets of rain.  
  
The coming night bit at the shrinking flesh of Harry's back as he was lowered down, bare chested, onto his cloak. His eyes ran with rain and tears. Draco pushed his head to the side and held his chin, lowering his quivering lips to gently caress the arched white neck, and toy with the erected buds of dark red on Harry's shuddering chest. Fingers, smooth but cruel, scraped over his stomach and at the waistband of his jeans. Cold grew more intense and a gasp cut the forest rain like a dagger through flesh. Green eyes widened fleetingly in panic as his body screamed in the agony of the heart and the brain. Captivating lips trailed down his steaming body to gently play over soft skin and a red tongue slipped from between the searching lips to delve beneath skin and quaking nerves.  
  
This time a cry echoed in the trees. Eyes flashed among the branches as Harry cried out again, throwing his head side to side and his face constricting in a painful pleasure. The whole time, storming, icy eyes watched him, watched the boy fall under the untamable spell and watch as his vulnerable chest shook and legs quavered. Lips parted as lids rose to unveil misty eyes. Words shaped upon the lips and gray eyes narrowed as a soft, hesitant hand pushed his face out from the steam rolling off of fevered skin.  
  
Draco stared in a mix of burning shock and blazing anger. Harry sat up and looked back at him, his flushed face clearly visible in the night. Then the words, dropping from his lips as vile poison, struck Draco deep inside as nothing he had ever encountered before.  
  
"I - I can't keep doing this. You don't - own me, Draco."  
  
Anger as nothing the Slytherin ever experienced pumped through his veins and Harry's gasping cry brought a look of bitter mirth into his eyes as he forcibly dragged the Gryffindor's head over to the side so that half the delicate face was submerged in moist lichen. Harry's hands tore at his arm and scratched, but Draco ignored it, putting his mouth right next to Harry's ear and hissing very quietly, "The hell I don't, Potter." Then he jerked Harry up again and crushed their lips together with enough force to send both of them to the ground, Draco pinning Harry's wrists above his head and roughly shoving his knee between stark white thighs.  
  
Tongues twined and fought, teeth crowded and tugged, lips twisted and struggled to form words. Fingers tangled in ebony locks, tearing at them with a combination of anger and passion. Moans going to cover the whimpers and the muffled pleas. He had him flat on the ground again, pressing into him, now lying struggling in the mud. Bodies smacking together with dull thuds, blood drawn from writhing body, screaming eyes.  
  
Harry threw his head to the side and shoved with all his might, kicking at the Slytherin. Draco raised a hand and brought in down with a crack echoed by lightning and Harry drew still. Breathing hard, chest heaving, Harry stared at Draco in horror, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth and his nose, blending with the fleeting rain water. His lips were swollen, purple, and bruised. Skin was rubbed raw. His scar stood out as some sort of livid reminder to Draco of who this was. Who this was *supposed* to be to him. At that moment he hated it. He hated it with a passion so deep that the blood beneath his nails felt not enough. The frantic writhing of the lithe body beneath him in fright shot adrenaline through his veins. He tilted his head down at Harry and swallowed up his mouth for another hot kiss. A growl reverberated deep in his throat when the lips were ripped from his and he was presented with the sharp jaw line of Harry's face. The Gryffindor stared hard at the ground.  
  
"You think you can stand me up? You think you can turn away?" Draco dragged the face back to him, glaring fiercely back into the smoldering emerald flames. "No, Potter. You've fallen in too deep for that." He ground his hips into Harry and the boy arched into him, his face contorting, lips twisting into a snarl of desperate fear.  
  
"Then do it. Just do it now, I can't stop you. Take me like you have so many times before," Harry spat, shame leaking into his eyes. "And I've let you. I've let you put your dirty hands all over me. And you know why, Malfoy? I actually thought after all these months that I loved you. But you used me. You've *been* using me! Ever since that first kiss, you've toyed with me. I should have known! And now look at you. But what can I do? Go ahead, force me! You took me by force the first time, didn't you? And you loved it."  
  
Draco leaned back, perched atop Harry's hips, a mocking smile playing over his lips. In the half moonlight, with his sharp face shadowed and contorted, he looked like the bloody Devil himself.   
  
"No, Potter. I don't think I will. You're nothing to me. Just a worthless romantic. But you wait and see. You can't live without me; Without me in you, around you, consuming you. You're not amusing anymore, Potter. You've grown dull and boring. Go back to your mudblood bint and your rat packing Weasel. They've probably missed you. More than I ever will."  
  
"Get off of me."  
  
"Such a temper for someone in your position. No one tells me what to do." The hand rose again and Harry clenched his teeth, eyes burning into the twin slits of ice. He flinched when cold fingers touched his cheek and the mouth once again pressed to his, unreasoning. They sat like that while the rain pounded onto them with a deadly force of chilling cold. Green slipped shut to avoid the gray. Draco rose off of Harry, throwing him a nasty smirk over his shoulder as he strolled away casually, holding their half filled bag of lichen they were meant to harvest for Hagrid over his shoulder. "See you around, Potter."  
  
And he was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
When he was turning a corner, Harry nearly ran into Ron and Hermione, who were in a heated argument over whether chocolate frogs were better than every flavored beans.  
  
"Hermione, what about the *mystery*!"  
  
"Tell me that when you get a dung flavored bean. Then you'll be singing a different tune!"  
  
"How can you - Harry! Just in time, we need to invent some more ways to die, quick! Our Divination homework is due tomorrow instead of Friday." The other two Gryffindors started back towards the House, and Harry couldn't help but follow. Inside, he sat lazily spread out in an armchair as Ron checked off ways that they would be dying. As he covered all the scenarios when a Unicorn could gore them, he brightened and sang happily, "I heard Malfoy fell off his broom, if you can believe it! He's been in a real fowl mood lately. And it couldn't be funnier."  
  
"Finding joy in other's suffering. Honestly!" Hermione glared at her boyfriend waspishly.   
  
Ron shot her a dopey grin. "But Mione, it's *Malfoy*!"  
  
"And...?"  
  
"Well, you *did* say person. And we know that just isn't possible concerning him."  
  
"Go get gored by a unicorn," she snapped.  
  
"Which way? Personally, I would rather die in a Ronald Kabob."  
  
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. Ron leaned back to give her a peck on the cheek and snap her book shut obnoxiously, making her lose her place. Squawking at him, she through her worn copy of Hogwarts: A History at his head.  
  
Harry watched them, chuckling over his Potions homework. He found that he loved spending time with them again. They both had accepted his sudden occupancy of the Great Hall and the common room without words, sharing relieved glances with each other at the thought that their Harry was back.   
  
The three of them swapped stories of their early childhood, finally letting Hermione retire to her own room after the story of Harry setting the Python on Dudley for the seventeenth time.  
  
"Goodnight, Hermione!"  
  
"Get a good rest, Harry."  
  
Ron kissed her softly on her forehead, ignoring the catcalls and inappropriate noises issuing from both Seamus and Dean's beds. The bushy brunette waved them all goodnight and ducked out the door. For another half an hour Ron ranted about her, to the dismay of an overtired, high-strung Neville, and a completely unromantic Seamus and Dean. Harry was the only one who listened, with only half an ear as he wrote to Sirius and Remus. All he gathered from Ron's bantering was that Hermione was nothing short of a Goddess. As he drifted into sleep, he smiled to himself and wondered about the appealing sixth year in Hufflepuff that kept shooting him glances at dinner.   
  
The next morning, Harry awoke to find Ron's bed completely empty. Seamus was up brushing his teeth and informed Harry, while managing to spray paste on his glasses, that Ron had snuck out about three that morning when receiving a letter from Hermione.  
  
"To meet in the *Tower*," Seamus cooed at Dean, who flicked water back at him. Harry thanked Seamus for the information and rushed down the steps and to the Great Hall with a certain jump in his step.  
  
That certain jump missed the ground and crumpled in a heap when Harry entered the corridor right outside the Great Hall. He had first heard their voices, and now saw them. Ron looked in a rage, his arms thrown up, mouth wide and yelling. Hermione stood across from him, screaming with tears running down her face. Panicked, Harry started to run, and their words came into focus.  
  
"....mudblood not good enough for you!? Did all those *sensible* things he said about dirty blood finally touch that pure blooded sensitive spot, Ron? Or did you just *accidentally* let Malfoy pushed you up against a wall and-"  
  
"I TOLD YOU, I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS HIM WHO SENT ME THE NOTE! IT SAID IT WAS FROM YOU!"  
  
"I'd think after seven years of friendship that you would be able to tell my handwriting, Ron! But I guess you don't know me that well."  
  
"What is there to know!?" Ron bellowed, "All there is about *you*, Hermione, are books!"  
  
Hermione staggered a step or two backward, her eyes streaming. But the anger and betrayal in her face didn't budge. With a sob, she marched up to the flushed redhead and slapped him firmly on the cheek, snapping his head to the side. He made a grab for her wrist, but she had already fled down the hall and disappeared. As if out of nowhere, Lavender and Parvati materialized from the walls and followed her, twittering like two old birds.  
  
Harry approached Ron slowly, who stood fixed on the spot, staring slack jawed after Hermione, hand resting as if unbelieving against the livid red mark on his cheek. He looked at Harry, a little shell shocked, and mumbled, "Didn't mean to say that."  
  
"What happened," demanded Harry quietly, his heart already pounding in his chest since the mention of Draco.  
  
"I got a letter this morning. It was signed by Hermione, to meet her at the Astronomy Tower. Yeah, it was a little unlike her, but-"  
  
"What *happened*? Ron, tell me."  
  
"I swear Harry, you know I'm not - I'd never-"  
  
"What did Malfoy do?" said Harry urgently.  
  
"He - I got to the tower and no one was there. I thought to wait for Hermione, when all of a sudden, I was slammed up against the wall and someone was kissing me. Then I saw Hermione and - it was Malfoy. Harry, Malfoy shoved me up against the wall just as Hermione came up the steps. She said - she *yelled* that she got a note from *me*. But - look, I even have the letter to prove it!"   
  
He held up a shaking piece of paper that rustled in the silence of the hall.  
  
"Did he hurt you?" Harry's voice was quiet, thick. There was a heavy sinking in his stomach.  
  
"No, he didn't. Harry, when Hermione left, Malfoy pushed me away like it was *me* who'd jumped on *him*. I was bloody well shook up and my head really hurt. Malfoy, the bastard, he just gave me this smile and I swear Harry, I could've killed him."  
  
Ron's eyes had wandered and Harry knew his friend was barely paying attention to anything. At the lanky redhead's feet Harry noticed a glinting circular object and knelt down to pick it up. His brow furrowed with worry, for it was Ron's promise ring to Hermione. He walked his friend to the Hall and convinced him to eat something, leaving him in the hands of Seamus and Dean.  
  
Then he went searching for Draco.  
  
~*~  
  
"I doubt arguing with a wall will get you anywhere, Potter," Draco sneered, causing Harry to jump and whirl, glaring hotly at the smug blonde leaning causally up against a smooth desk and causally appraising a grotesque pewter carving of a dying dragon. "And anyway, the Slytherin entranceway lies beyond the next hall." He waved to a place behind him and shook himself, a look of boredom fixed almost painfully exact on his face. Harry pursed his lips, turning away and staring fixedly at his shaking hand still resting upon the cold stone, fingers slightly curled.   
  
As was the Slytherin's habit, he seemed to materialize close to Harry's shoulder, close enough that Harry could feel his breath stir the hair at his temple. Forcing his eyes upwards, Harry glared at Draco with as much anger as he could muster, which nearly faltered altogether beneath the blonde's cool scrutinizing gaze. Suddenly his great plan to blow up at the boy seemed petty and pointless. It took all his restraint not to either run or walk away.  
  
"Restraint, plus passion, equals tension."  
  
Harry stared wordlessly.  
  
"And you do look *awfully* tense, Potter," Draco purred, moving behind Harry and running his hands over the curve of his rigid spine. The Gryffindor went to move away, but strong fingers caught his arm and held him still, as the eyes bored into him, taunting him and coaxing him all at the same time. His breath rushed ragged out of his throat. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Running was still an option.  
  
Draco snaked an arm across Harry's chest, other hand creeping over his face to touch his chin, gently turning it so that their lips just barely met. Harry felt a shiver run all over his body.  
  
So maybe running was *not* an option.  
  
"Did you have something to say to me?" The blonde smirked, running his tongue around Harry's instinctively puckering lips.  
  
"I can't let you hurt Ron or Her- unh!" His back arched sharply, head digging back into Draco's shoulder. He vaguely felt Draco's smirking mouth against his collar bone, barely was aware of cloth slipping down off his shoulder.  
  
"If only you weren't so selfish, Harry. I waited for you, and I *hate* to wait." Grip tightened and Harry cried out, hands struggling against Draco's, tangling in robes, lips parting, eyelids fluttering like the delicate wings of frightened butterflies. Teeth worked at the joint of his neck and shoulder, tongue massaging flushed skin and a fierce sucking drawing the deep red blood to the surface of his blushing flesh. And the feeling of the deepest kind of sinful delight.   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, lowering to his knees and laying his head against Draco's thigh. A white hand angled his face upwards, quivering lips meeting the velvet over rock mouth, gingerly tongues entwining. For a moment the hallway was as silent as the darkness of Death. Harry lost his breath, lashes rising to reveal moist emerald orbs swimming in a sea of vivid emotion. He studied the white face before him, marveling at the silver lashes lightly kissing the sharp cheekbones. When they opened to regard him with a small window of relief, he felt his heart clench.  
  
Draco sunk down, never parting their kiss, and wrapped his arms tightly around his renewed lover, pressing his body as close as it could go against Harry's front. Their lips grew warmer and warmer as their kiss intensified. With an almost hungry vigor, they swallowed moans and tasted traces of chocolate or spice, trying almost in a way to devour each other's soul.  
  
They leaned back, gasping for air, noses bumping, hips crushed together still, arms entangled around each other's waist. Harry felt a blush join the existing one over his cheeks at the scene he pictured of himself wrapped around Draco, robes rumpled up around his waist, shoulder down nearly exposing his whole arm, lips swollen and bruised from their fierce kisses.  
  
"Well, don't we make a pretty picture," Draco breathed, ducking his head to tease at the flesh of Harry's throat. His hand slipped beneath the black robe to draw teasing circles around Harry's naval, and stroke the thin line of light brown hair tracing down from it.  
  
"Nothing could ever be more beautiful," Harry replied.....  
  
  
..... You'd think fish would bite at a gourmet poppy seed muffin, thought Harry miserably, bringing up his line to glare at the soggy piece of month old muffin he had dug up from the cushions of the couch. He sneezed and fell back a little, nearly shoving his palm into the ashtray holding several smoldering cigars, almost singing the yellowish pages of Draco's book. Gingerly dropping his line back and plucking the liveliest of the smoking fags from the ashtray, Harry shook off ash from the naughty novel and scanned the last page he read, searching for his place.  
  
"Sarah already stripped by then," he murmured, turning the page and skimming more text. "Merlin, don't I have any shame?" He threw the book down, scowling at the empty water below his dangling feet. After a few minutes of silent nothing, his eyes somehow found their way back to the book. The heroine had just been captured by the evil guy in the tight pants.  
  
Glancing around warily, as if the fish would care, Harry grabbed the book quickly and found his place, settling into the story again with a quick puff of his cigar. Remember to dispose of this evidence, he reminded himself, picturing the look Draco would have if he caught Harry smoking after he had already stole a smoke atop a building while they were visiting friends last week.  
  
"Maybe you guys need a little serenade," Harry joked at the absent fish. Clearing his throat and humming horribly out of tune, Harry began to belt out a rather clipped version of "Respect" by Aretha Franklin.  
  
"R-E-S-P-E-C-T   
Find out what it means to me   
R-E-S-P-E-C-T   
Take care, TCB   
  
Sock it to me, sock it to me,   
sock it to me, sock it to me!"  
  
Fading weakly, he stared down at the water.  
  
"Geez, tough crowd."   
  
Not a bloody fish in sight, the bastards.  
  
Tapping ash off the end of his fag, Harry nearly sneezed, keeping his fingers folded in the book as he held onto the pole with the other hand and leaned over to waggle his head above the ashtray. Then, cursing as his cigar slipped from between his lips and rolled a little on the dock, the naughty novel was knocked from his fingers as the pole jerked spastically. He felt a sharp and distinct tug on it again. Because of his victorious joy, he realized only too late that Draco's book was airborne over the rippling surface of the lake.  
  
Dropping the fishing pole with a clatter to the wood and ignoring it as it was pulled subtly over the edge into the water, Harry paced the edge of the dock, wondering if it was logical to jump in for a naughty novel when he was in his jeans and the weather was dismal out. Then again, it *was* Draco's favorite, and he *had* rather stolen it.   
  
Swearing graphically, Harry watched in dismay as the book dipped beneath the surface. Warring within himself whether to jump in or not, he stepped backwards onto the smoldering cigar rolling around on the dock. With a loud and shrill yowl, Harry went careening off the side of the dock and landed flat face down in the water. The smack could be heard for miles around, and would have put the great sumo belly floppers to shame.  
  
A/N: Okay, so I'm guessing you figured out that Ron and Hermione made up, ne? Okay, I just *knew* you guys were a smart group! *wink* Anyway, I'm in no mood to breach the subject of how they made up. I'm laaazy. *squee* And I know very well how much you all hate me for how weak I made our Golden Boy, but everyone has their weakness! Harry's just happens to be a drop dead gorgeous Slut!Draco. Eh, that's the way the cookie crumbles, and I am NO cook. Thank you all for your patience with me. Love, love! ^_^* Au revior! MERRY CHRISTMAS - AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF!!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	8. Like Fathers, Like Scudamoor

A/N: THANX TO...   
**Fanny chan: *grin* Thanks, dollface!  
**Death: *frown* I s'pose you could say that. I actually have a Harry Potter rug. Yes, it's very nifters indeed. *wink*  
**(person who didn't sign in): Thanks, but it would be nice to know you you are, instead of a blank tab.  
**JaneyLane5: Oi, you're like the only one who gave a whole review. *hug*  
**Neon Wildnerness: *giggles* Just tickled pink you like 'em, dollface!  
  
*****This starts off right from where the previous chappie left off!!*****  
  
Chapter Eight: Like Fathers, Like Scudamoor  
  
Dripping, muddy, and glowering, Harry stumbled into the cottage and threw the book onto the couch, where it bounced once and fell to the floor with a wet slap. He glared at the offending pages staring up at him, curling already in the heat of the fire as the water dried. With bitter humor, Harry stomped into the kitchen, telling himself that there was no way Draco would notice the book had ever been moved from its place.  
  
"A Unicorn would rather not notice if its horn were missing," he muttered under his breath, taking a steaming cup of tea with him as he put the book back, sniffles tickling his nose all the way. His pants stuck to him uncomfortably, and he kicked his legs out, trying in a vain attempt to dislodge the cloth from soggy contact with his skin.  
  
Luckily, the leeches weren't feeling the munchies, and Harry's skin was unscathed. Throwing his pants and shirt over the back of a chair to dry, Harry dug around in his drawers and pulled out a fresh pair of underpants. Unfortunately they were the ones Draco had bought him for a joke on Valentines that year. They were bright neon pink with little hearts and cherub Cupids darting back and forth over the fabric. They also happened to be a little on the scanty side. Cursing himself for forgetting to do the wash that week, Harry stalked out into the living room, shaking in the cold of the house and the water still dripping from his sopping tendrils of hair.   
  
Soon enough Harry had a cheery little fire blazing away in the wood stove and was sitting on the rug before the fire with a nice strong cup of tea nestled between his ankles. Too lazy to change into decent clothes, he had stayed put in his Valentine unmentionables.  
  
His glasses hung on the very tip of his nose as he hunched over the crossword puzzle on the floor in front of his tea-warmed toes. A long quill tickled his cheek as he thought. Phallic. What in the hell was that?  
  
"Damn," he grumbled, scratching his head. He had heard Draco use this word before to describe jacked up trucks they saw as "phallic symbols."  
  
'Or lack thereof', Draco had joked. Harry had never thought it that funny because what he understood, phallic meant machoism or something. He wasn't macho, what is so funny about lacking phallic?  
  
"But that mustn't be it," he continued to muse, rolling over onto his back and lifting the steaming tea cup up into the air with his feet. "It says it's five letters. Machoism is nine. Maybe it's just macho, or manly. Or mannishness. No, that's what - ten." He paused. "Is mannishness even a word?"  
  
In the kitchen while he baked some chocolate chip cookies that had molded together into one giant cookie, Harry had pinned up the cross-word booklet, still stuck on the last bloody word. Phallic.  
  
" 'I' is the second to last letter - dammit!" He cursed, hopping on one foot and sucking on his finger. The cookie had slipped off the overly greased pan and onto the floor.  
  
The last crumb of cookie was licked from the edge of his lip, and the crossword booklet sat propped up against a mantle clock. Harry paced, this was driving him complete nuts!  
  
It bothered him so much, he didn't notice when the grandfather clock announced to the house in an old cracked voice, singing along with his chimes, that it was seven. Draco was a half hour late. When the grandfather clock was at the third chime, Harry threw his tea cup at it.  
  
A half an hour later the door to the little cottage opened and Harry looked up from the middle of the couch where he had been crouching like a crazed animal, the crossword clutched in his hands.  
  
"Draco!" He ran to the door. "What does 'phallic' mean? Seriously, I've been racking my brain for an hour trying to solve it. You've used it before, tell me what it means?"  
  
This rather sudden outburst received a small chuckle and a wry reply, "You and I both have used it, darling."  
  
Harry glanced up wonderingly and immediately his eyes flew wide and his hands dove down to cover himself and the embarrassing underpants.  
  
"Er, hey, Draco..... and friend."  
  
"Now, for instance," continued Draco, throwing his companion a look before turning back to a flushing Harry, "You are now covering your phallic from Quinne and I. Get it, love?"  
  
"..... Oh...."  
  
"Hmm, I've known you've always been one for first impressions Harry, but.... Harry, this is one of my close coworkers, Quinne. Quinne, this is my boyfriend, Harry. At his best."  
  
"My pleasure to meet you, Harry," the other man spoke up, thrusting forward a large hand.   
  
Harry stared at him.  
  
"I'm sure he's tickled pink, Quinne," soothed Draco, shooting Harry a death glare over the tall man's shoulder. Quinne drew back his hand, not at all miffed in the least. He was grinning at Harry with gleaming pearly whites that made Harry feel like a wet rag. His face was angled back to get a good view of this new character, even more so because of his glasses still low on the bridge of his nose. Draco pushed passed the both of them and gave Harry a cynical inspection before looking back over his shoulder at Quinne. "Would you like to come in the kitchen and make yourself at home? I think Harry may need a few minutes to change. Maybe we've gotten enough thrill for this evening, Harry?"  
  
The first thing that hit Harry about Quinne after scrutinizing him for five minutes at the kitchen table, slowly sipping his tea, was how ruggedly handsome the man was. From the beautifully sculpted body and perfectly tanned complexion tastefully dressed in an open pale peach dress shirt and loose fitting jeans, to the glossy mop of wild honey auburn curls falling down passed his broad shoulders. The thick mane of hair framed a square, sculpted face with a prominent Roman nose and wide brown eyes that took in the whole world. Fully shaped lips turned up a little at HarryÕs obvious distaste of him, and he tried to break the silence by noticing the view outside the kitchen window. Harry narrowed his eyes as the deep, resonating tenor told how *nice* it was to finally meet him after hearing *so* much about him from Drac.  
  
"Drac?" echoed Harry weakly. Quinne raised his eyebrows and glanced at Draco, who stood leaning against the counter, viewing this one-sided exchange with an amused expression.  
  
"Just a pet name from work," he shrugged.  
  
~*~  
  
"Just a pet name," he pressed earnestly, not able to quell the nervous tapping of his foot and the shaking of his tightly crossed arms. Draco, in nothing but a pair of black boxers, making it very difficult indeed for Harry to be angry with him, looked up wryly at the darker boy, toothpaste dripping off his chin and toothbrush hanging from frothy lips. He snorted, spraying the mirror, which took the foam patiently, only muttering darkly under its breath.  
  
"Harry, I don't know why you're so bent out of shape about Quinne. He dropped me off-"  
  
"An HOUR late!"  
  
"-because he's been wanting to meet *you*! You're being childish."  
  
"He's gorgeously buff, Draco. He's - he's-"  
  
"The complete opposite of you, so what's your worry? Harry, do I have to remind you how much I love you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Draco looked momentarily hurt before spitting out the rest of his toothpaste and wiping his mouth. He looked hard at Harry, which the man fidgeted under, but kept his gaze steady.  
  
"Oh, Harry." Draco threw his arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the lips, surprising Harry a little. "I love you *too* much. Who knew I could fall for such the Gryffindor hero. Though they do say opposites attract. Amen to that, eh?" Laughing, he ruffled Harry's wild fringe and took off the thick framed glasses, tossing them behind Harry where they bounced on the bed and slipped to the floor. Then he set his palms firmly against Harry's chest and started backing him up.  
  
"You know," he said matter-of-factly as Harry was pressed against the edge of the door, knocking it shut, "I think you need some genuine proof, eh? I mean, what are words - compared to actions?"  
  
"You know, Draco, I think you're right."  
  
"Love, I'm *always* right."  
  
"Kudos to that," Harry breathed as his shirt was lifted over his head, "Kudos to that....."  
  
  
..... He arched into the other boy, gasping with frail breath, "We'll be late. Draco, we're going to be late for-"  
  
Silver eyes glinted dangerously. "You don't like this?"  
  
Harry panted heavier. "Yes.... please, Draco...."  
  
"Then keep quiet until I am done."  
  
The class all turned and watched as Draco came sauntering into their masses, smirking coyly and blowing kisses to all the Gryffindors glowering darkly at him. He looked like a boy who had just been given the world. As the others turned to see a rather disheveled Harry stagger up a few minutes later, Draco wiped the side of his mouth and smirked wider.  
  
"Harry, where were you," demanded Ron quietly, glaring hot pokers into Malfoy's back. The pale eyed youth felt his glare and turned to look back with a blank expression that sent deep growls reverberating in Ron's throat. Gently laying a peace imbedding hand upon his shoulder, Hermione looked Harry over with sharp disapproval.  
  
"You're late," she pointed out curtly. He nodded and tried to hide the blush that has stained the tops of his cheeks.  
  
"Did Malfoy rile you up a bit?"  
  
Harry failed to appreciate the wry humor Draco would of salvaged from this comment, and shook his head. "Just forgot something up in the dorm, that's all." Still looking very doubtful, Ron and Hermione traded looks and then gave their attention to Hagrid, who had just ambled into the yard holding several huge crates in his massive arms. A number of Slytherins and one or two Gryffindors groaned.  
  
"Quit with yer moping," Hagrid roared, amusement in his beetle black eyes. Hermione craned her neck to see over the broad shoulder of a Slytherin and tilted her head to one side.   
  
The top crate was open, and inside was what looked like a huge gelatin mass of black caviar. She wrinkled her nose a as a slight fishy smell bombarded her senses. Pansy Parkinson gagged next to her.  
  
Harry glanced sidelong at Draco who was watching the small twitching movement of the black sludge with an expression equal to that of a man told he was condemned to worked in the sewers with the rats. Only a little more reserved.  
  
"These here are what you would call.... anyone?"  
  
Hermione's hand shot up right on cue. Ron nearly had to dive out of the way or get his ear torn off if her finger caught.  
  
"These creatures are commonly known as Scudamoors. They thrive on the love and care of other creatures. In other words, this creature is a parasite. An experiment was performed and a Scudamoor grew and developed under the nurturing of a mother goose. They take the shape of the animal they are bonded to, and if are taken well care of, leave the nest after only a short time."  
  
"In other words," Hagrid continued, winking at a rather flushed Hermione, "These here animals are going to be yer responsibility fer today. You'll get partnered up, and both o' you will set yer hands on the Scudamoor I give you. Then the little guy'll start changin' and become what a child would look like if you both were the parents."  
  
The class started talking animatedly, boys sliding over next to girls, and girls giggling. Hermione and Ron looked at each other and held hands. Harry bit his lip.   
  
"No, no, no! Let's make this a bit interestin', eh?" Hagrid shook his head at the Gryffindors and Slytherins standing tightly together. "I want you to go with the other house, got that? And if yeh don' pick, I will." There was much grumbling after this comment. The students milled about until Hagrid started to bellow out names. The matches were horrible, so people just took a chance grabbing whoever was nearest.  
  
Harry felt a long fingered hand close painfully around his wrist. Gasping in alarm, he stumbled back, chills running up his spine as he felt the familiar sweetly cool breath on his neck.  
  
"But Draco," he whispered frightfully, looking wildly to all the other students getting paired.  
  
"Stuff it, Potter," Draco replied airily as Hagrid vaguely motioned to them. He smirked into dark black hair and withdrew, his features molding once more into his trademark sneer. "Lucky me."  
  
Harry poked curiously at the lump of goo sitting on the ground in front of them. His wand hissed with the contact. Nearly stumbling back, he rose to his feet and backed behind Draco, his nose wrinkling in disgust. No one else even spared them a glance. Hagrid was right at the moment in a yelling match with Lavender (who had been paired with Goyle). Seems she wasn't too keen on putting her hands in the Scudamoor as Goyle just looked on dumbly. Harry couldn't blame her in the least.   
  
"Is our Golden Boy feeling a bit squeamish, then?" Draco teased, squatting down and scooping up the jellyfish like mass in his dragon hyde gloved hands. He inspected it closely, putting his gray eyes right up to it, and making poor Harry feel again what he had had for breakfast.  
  
"Draco, quit touching it!"  
  
"Potter, this is our child," Draco said, holding the glob close and looking hurt, "Don't you see how beautiful it is?"  
  
"You're not funny. Now, put it down."  
  
"And you once faced down spiders and defeated a dragon, not to mention Lord Voldemort himself."  
  
He thrust the pile up at Harry, who scuttled back like a frightened crab. Draco smirked at him, and cocked his ear to listen quickly to Hagrid telling them the last minute precautions. Giving Harry a nasty evil look indeed, he tapped the pile of glup with his wand and motioned for Harry to approach.  
  
"Now lay your hand on it."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Just for a second."  
  
"Yech!"  
  
"Don't be such a weenie. Put you're bloody hand on it, or your face will have to suffice."  
  
Harry hesitantly put his hand forward, and winced when Draco grabbed it roughly and shoved in into the pile. They both stared as the thing twitched. Draco hurriedly spoke the correct words, spiraling his wand upwards from their joined hands to wake it. Beneath Harry's shaking digits, the pile began to squirm, and a thin wailing cry emit not only from their own mass, but from all the others.  
  
"Now, peel off the outer covering!" Hagrid yelled merrily, his eyes crinkling with a gigantic grin. Draco smoothly peeled back the slimy outer covering to reveal the most amazing thing Harry had ever seen in his entire life.  
  
It was a child.  
  
She had the lightest shade of black hair sticking out every which way from her tiny cherub face, flushed and exuberant, barely veiling the glowing of her silver eyes which glittered in the sunlight overhead. Her tiny fist beat on Draco's hands, and her toothless mouth turned up into a smile. It dazzled both the boys, and Harry felt nearly weak. So weak in fact, that he sat down abruptly on the ground. Draco held the little girl up a little higher and stared at her, silver flashing eyes to silver flashing eyes. One pair with the utmost amusement, and the other with the utmost wonder and awe.   
  
Hagrid's laughter was heard over all, and he reminded them they had over forty minutes left with their children. The students barely heard him inform them to take notes on the child's behavior, all too mesmerized by the kicking bundles of joy they held in their arms. Lavender actually hugged Goyle as he rocked their little girl back and forth. Pansy Parkinson swatted irritably at Ron, who was at the moment trying to view his son.  
  
Both Harry and Draco set their little girl on the grass and kneeled down next to her as she wiggled around, separating herself from the last of the black goo sticking to her skin.  
  
"Now, go about naming these little tikes."  
  
After recovering from the shock of what they had just beheld, many couples broke out into fights over the names of their children.  
  
Draco sat back, bouncing the little girl on his knee as she squealed with delight, Harry's glasses perched on her little button nose. The raven haired boy chewed on a blade of grass as Hagrid made his way among the pairs, breaking up fights and seeing the outcome of his rather risky experiment that most parents would most surely disapprove of. The giant man pushed through, coming upon a hapless Neville and hissing Millicent Bullstrode.  
  
"Its sex rather ruins everything," Draco sighed, letting the little girl gnaw on his finger determinedly with her pink gums. Harry glanced sidelong at him and shrugged. He tickled the baby's side and she giggled louder, rolling off of Draco's knee (taking his finger with her) and crawling swiftly over to Harry's ear, which she immediately used to replace Draco's finger as a chew toy.  
  
"It's not like naming a dog," Harry volunteered helpfully, "So I would avoid any names like Sparky."  
  
"I'll not further address that comment, Harry. Since I come from a family that has a long line of heirs, holding their father or mother's name, I vouch we name the thing Dracona."  
  
Harry stared at him. "This *thing* is what our child would look like. You want to curse it with a name like 'Dracona'? You might as well name her Harriet, at least that's more fitting for a girl." As he said this, the untitled tot got to her tottery feet and made her way over to Seamus' and a Slytherin named Amber's tittle boy, and punched him in the stomach with her tiny hands.  
  
Draco was on his feet in an instant, motioning to Seamus trying to tear the little dark haired girl away from his bawling child. "She resembles me more. Harriet is the name of some big haired typist in an office building of the sixties."  
  
"My great grandmother was named Harriet!"  
  
"That's good for her, Potter. But we're discussing class. Don't bother to bring you're family into this."  
  
Harry looked positively scandalized and was pumping up for a real nasty retort when their little girl came running back to them, covered from head to tiny foot in mud. She had escaped under the fence to the gardens and romped with Hagrid's pigs in the mud after running from Seamus. Harry scooped her up in his arms, glaring at Draco.  
  
"You know, now that you bring it up, she *does* resemble you more!"  
  
"Fine! You name the blasted thing what you will."  
  
Harry pursed his lips, racking his brain for a name to throw in Draco's face. When nothing came to his lips, Draco huffed drily at him and walked over, his face softening as he slipped the little girl from Harry's arms and held her, trying in vain to wipe the mud from her fresh features with a dainty white handkerchief.  
  
They glanced at each other and Harry began to apologize, but Draco shook his head, gently swaying his arms. Green eyes turned downwards to see their little girl fast asleep in Draco's embrace, her dirty thumb stuck in her mouth, mud caked lashes sticking to the tops of her brown crusted cheeks. He smiled softly, moving close to Draco so that their foreheads gently bumped. Wiping at the muck he ran a delicate finger over her soft cheeks, and raised his eyes for a moment to meet Draco's. At that moment, no one was there, and luckily no one else was looking.  
  
"You know, boys," boomed Hagrid behind Harry, "She looks just like my aunt Nayve. Always covered from head to toe in mud!"  
  
Harry laughed, laying a gentle kiss of the girl's forehead. "Nayve? I like it, Draco. What about you?"  
  
"Nayve. Malfoy/Potter. Nayve Malter."  
  
"Makes enough sense to me."  
  
"Let's just make one thing clear over this kid, Potter: I'm the father."  
  
Harry grinned at him, "Sure, honey."  
  
The students were allowed to keep their Scudakids until the end of class, when Hagrid made his way around and grabbed up the Scudamoors, plopping them back into the crates. Many of the "parents" became rather emotional with tears in their eyes as they waved goodbye to the now again piles of caviar looking stuff. Nayve blew her daddies a kiss and melted back into what she had been before. Some of the couples were standing very close together, watching as Hagrid loaded up the crates and assigned them several pages to summarize about these certain animals.  
  
"Now, I want no sad faces! You wait a good number more years and soon you'll be havin' yer own families." This reminder seemed to brighten the mood somewhat, and for the young witches and wizards to feel the after affects of what Scudamoors do to a person, being what they were; parasites. Seamus actually sat down, rubbing his aching temples that throbbed with headache. Ron messaged Hermione's shoulders, and Lavender dozed on Goyle's shoulder.  
  
Hagrid seemed to be having a very good time with it.  
  
"Now ye get a chance to feel how yer parents do all the time!"   
  
Harry and Draco sat together a little ways off. As Hagrid dismissed them for the day, Draco gripped Harry's hand and they made a promise to meet at the Owlery later that evening.  
  
~*~  
  
"She was beautiful wasn't she, Draco?"  
  
"She was what would come of you and me. She was perfect."  
  
Harry accepted this two-way compliment in silence. The two of them had left the Owlery, having had to stage a fight when a second year walked in on them in an embrace. Now they were on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, down a ways from Hagrid's hut up in the low hanging branches of a tree.  
  
"Nayve reminded me that we'll never have a family."  
  
"Don't be stupid, Harry."  
  
Harry stayed quiet after that, but he couldn't help but notice the tenseness of Draco's arms after that, or how cold his kisses were on his cheeks and lips. When he leaned back with Draco over him, he couldn't help but notice that Draco refused to meet his eyes.....  
  
  
..... His wrists were hot against the cool tile, and Draco's fingers hard over his skin. Harry rolled his shoulders back a little for a more comfortable position. Draco cast him a wry glance before returning with his lips to attack Harry's chest, relishing the wet gasps and muffled moans coming from Harry's rose bud mouth.  
  
Water cascaded down both their torsos, and Harry blinked a little, his shining lashes sending tiny water droplets flying onto Draco's mercury colored tendrils. He arched his back, digging his shoulders into the ridge of the tub. Draco purred against his chest, pulling on Harry's knees and grinding his hips into the bucking form beneath him.  
  
Harry was nearly lying down by the time Draco pulled away and let him breathe. The former Slytherin watched him with heavy lidded eyes, crouched there between Harry's bent legs. Sharp elbows perched upon either knee, and Draco smiled with a feral mischief down at Harry, who was at the moment inspecting the bruises on his wrists with a critical eye.  
  
"We really don't do this enough."  
  
Harry looked up, "No?"  
  
Draco leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Harry's throbbing adam's apple. "No."  
  
Hands, long and graceful, a seeker's hands, pressed on Draco's back and the blonde settled himself down, aligning himself with Harry's body and crushing their lips together.  
  
"The water's getting cold," Harry gasped.  
  
"You'll be wishing for ice when I'm done with you."  
  
"Too much talk," Harry reminded him teasingly, "Not enough action."  
  
"Be careful what you wish for, Potter."  
  
Draco grabbed Harry's hips and yanked downwards. Harry uttered a small cry as he slithered down in the wet tub so that he was looking straight up into Draco's face, water dropping down on him from curling blonde tresses. His breath became quick and jagged as Draco smirked.  
  
"It just may come true."  
  
A/N: About that baby thing..... yeah. Sorry 'bout that. *laughs* Seems like I've been apologizing an awfuly bit lately. Oh well. I enjoyed this chapter myelf, regardless of the few blips it bears. Anyway, you should be happy. It's Christmas Eve! And even though I happen to loathe the holidays, I wish you all a nice one. *hugs and kisses* Au revior!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	9. All Things Beautiful are as Frail

A/N: THANX TO...  
**Fanny chan: Oh, you flatterer you! *hug*  
**Coeur-de-ma-vie: Well then, lovey, I'm glad I could make your holiday bearable!  
**Emma: Thanks, hun!  
**JaneyLane5: *laughs* I bet this review was funnier than the original anyway!! *kiss*  
**TheUknownJedi: Grounded for 2 WEEKS???? *faints from horror* Glad you're back! *hug*  
**Milady69: Did I get this chappie up quick enough? *wink*  
  
Chapter Nine: All Things Beautiful are as Frail  
  
Draco stared. He kept staring as Harry made his way, blushing madly, across the living room to stand by the door. His hair, streaked with a deep green tonight, masked the priceless expression of his eyes. Draco noticed the trademark glasses were gone, probably replaced with some temporary spell. But Draco really didn't care. All he knew was that Harry looked dead hot and that he, Draco, would be the man hanging onto this Sex God's arm and the only one in those covered eyes. It was a feeling that made Draco suddenly very happy to be alive, and to be alive with someone as devoted and wonderful as Harry Potter.  
  
"Is that outfit legal?"  
  
"I hope not."  
  
"Merlin, Harry, let's skip the club-"  
  
"No. You said we needed a night out, Draco."  
  
"How am I supposed to protect you from every human being with good taste and eyes in their heads!"  
  
"Now you know how I feel - ALL the time."  
  
Draco stuck his tongue out at Harry, and when the darker boy came within range, threw his thin arms around his neck and cried, "Kiss me, you fool!"  
  
Harry grinned with mischief in his eyes and dipped the blonde deeply, laughing as Draco gasped when his hair brushed the floor. Then Harry began stroking Draco's spiky platinum tendrils and speaking in the manner of the Warner Bros. Skunk of Love, Pepe Le Pue, to his unwilling cat mistress. Draco, clinging to Harry's neck, rolled his eyes and kissed Harry, shutting him up.  
  
Stroking his tongue gently at first, then latching onto Harry's bottom lip, Draco purred against the rose bud mouth, smiling into Harry as the other man lowered him to the hard floor, whereas the taller man stretched over him, straddling his slender waist.  
  
"Maybe we *should* skip the club," Harry whispered down Draco's neck, following his warm breath with a hot, moist tongue. Draco arched into him, digging his sharp elbows into the floor when Harry pushed back his open collared shirt and found an erected bud, bathing it in warmth.  
  
"Don't tempt me, we haven't been out in ages and are becoming antisocial," Draco groaned in reply, though his argument was weak.  
  
Harry leaned back.   
  
"I suppose you're right," he admitted, to Draco's disappointment, "So let's go before we get carried away again."  
  
He helped Draco to his feet, where the blonde gave him a peck on the cheek, and they both Disapparated from the cottage with smiles on their faces, love in their eyes, hands resting on each others' bums, and glitter glinting in their wild hair.  
  
The club was in full swing by the time Harry felt his legs giving out. He pulled Draco to one of the nearby couches, shoving aside the feet of a romping couple. Then he lay his head on Draco's bare chest while the platinum blonde stroked his cheek and watched the wild and raunchy dancing and the flashing lights that struck up a small aching in the back of his head.  
  
"And that wraps up hour three," Harry shouted hoarsely in his ear over the music, hot breath stirring Draco's sweat flattened hair. Really, he didn't see why anyone got all dressed up for a club. By the time you were either dumped drunk in a ditch, or driven to the hospital, or married to a complete stranger, you looked like a cheap whore from the ghetto.  
  
Chuckling at his own thoughts, Draco rested his head on Harry's as he felt the pulse of Harry's rapidly beating heart slow down. Glancing at his face, stark white in the shine of the black lights, Draco realized his partner was sleeping. For once, the lines of worry etching Harry's delicate features disappeared in a slumber of complete and utter exhaustion.  
  
It was then as Harry slept in all the rip roaring action of the club that Draco noticed a pair of eyes fixed on him from the other side of the dark underground room. He squinted, but it did no more then cloud his vision. Feeling thoroughly old at his sight detriment, Draco leaned back and cradled Harry's head in his lap, taking to tracing his fingers over the sleeping wizard's face and quickly forgetting those staring eyes.  
  
But the eyes did not leave him and were still fixed on him ten minutes later when Harry snorted and rolled over, shoving his face (purely unintentional) into Draco's groin area. Squeaking and laughing at the same time as several other couples made catcalls at him, Draco lowered Harry's head onto the frayed cushions of the couch and crouched down next to him on the floor, eye level with the heavy black lashes quivering as Harry's crystal green eyes darted under the closed lids in a dream.  
  
"You can sleep through a club, yet whenever you tried to catch up on lost sleep in Binn's class, you said you couldn't do it," he teased quietly, knowing full well that no one else could hear him.  
  
Then he noticed how chapped Harry's lips were, and decided he could trust the occupants of this club enough not to steal his partner in the few minutes it would take to get him a glass of hard lemonade, since they didn't sell straight drinks here, no pun intended.  
  
Getting to his feet and shaking away the wave of dizziness, Draco dusted off his knees and touched Harry's hair before spinning smartly on his heel to get the lemonade. Unfortunately upon turning, he squashed his nose into the broad chest of some man blocking his way. Looking up and preparing an indignant retort that he was in no mood for big gits with bad manners, he realized who exactly the man was.  
  
"Quinne!" he started in surprise, taking in the leather clad, shirtless business partner.   
  
Quinne grinned dashingly and shook his sparkling honey hair, now adorned in white highlights and violet glitter.  
  
"You are looking very beautiful tonight, Drac," he commented, eyes roving over Draco's glistening body.  
  
Crossing his arms over himself and trying to dispel the feeling that those brown eyes were mentally undressing him, Draco motioned to the bar and yelled, "Harry's gone to sleep and I'm going over to get him a drink. Want anything?"  
  
Quinne shook his head no, and leaned forward so that his lips were nearly resting against Draco's ear and said clearly, "Before you go, would you join me for one little dance? Just one short one, and you'll be on your way again."  
  
Draco looked down at Quinne's longfingered hand resting on his hip and bit his lip, glancing uncertainly back at Harry.  
  
"I don't know, Quinne," he shouted over the booming music, "I don't want someone coming over and messing with Harry!"  
  
"He's sleeping, he'll be fine."  
  
"Well.... alright. But just a quick one."  
  
Quinne's grin grew again and with the hand resting on Draco's hip, he steered the slighter man out onto the dance floor where the music changed to a slow song as if on cue. Looking uncomfortable, Draco began to decline Quinne's offer, remembering those eyes on him, but found himself against the other man's chest before he was able to say anything.  
  
Looking back again at Harry to see if he was still all right, Draco didn't failed to notice it as Quinne turned him gently around so that his back pressed into the bigger man. He *did* notice though when Quinne's large hands snaked over his stomach and passed his belt, hugging him against swaying hips. Wriggling a tiny bit at the feel of Quinne's belt buckle digging into the small of his back, Draco tried to relax and dance to the slow music.   
  
His eyes kept going to Harry, who was still sleeping, even under the earlier romping couple who had rolled over him as if he were nothing but a lumpy throw pillow. Draco smiled again, weaker this time and feeling the weariness of partying taking its toll on him. Quinne held him tighter and started to thrust against him with the beat of the music, and singing a lilting tenor in Draco's ear.  
  
The former Slytherin swayed a little, an alarm going off in the back of his head as Quinne's nimble fingers felt over the buckle of his belt. He moaned lightly in protest, but the nearly inaudible sound was lost in the volume of music and raised voices. His belt was slipped from the loops of his pants and warm hands shoved under the waistband.  
  
Silver eyes flew open, glowing in the black lights. He struggled against Quinne's embrace as the bigger man pressed him closer, honey hair stifling his breath as he kissed along Draco's jaw line and bumped against his back harder and harder as the music grew in volume and pace.  
  
Harry slept on soundly as the romping couple using him as a pillow tumbled in a heap to the floor, mouths never coming away from each other. He stirred lightly, sniffing his nose and tucking a hand beneath his cheek.  
  
Draco cried out, raising his hands to push at Quinne's arms tightening around him and the warm hands, now so cold, pressing against his flushed skin. He twisted and managed to stumble away, crashing into another man who shoved him sideways, sending the staggering blonde crashing into a nearby wall.  
  
Eyes fluttering weakly, Draco felt more than saw Quinne nearing him, pressing him tightly to the wall. The now so rough mouth put off a strong stench of whiskey and Draco let out a scream as his lips were crushed against his teeth and the inside of his mouth filled with the taste of whiskey soaked breath.  
  
Hands groped down his back and cupped his backside, lifting him against the broad chest, slimy tongue dragging at his swollen lips and lapping at his gums. Quinne thrust his pelvis against Draco, moans reverberating between their lips. The picture frame Draco's shoulder had struck rocked and clapped the wall each time Draco cried out as he was shoved back into the vivid colored wall behind him repeatedly.  
  
Sweat poured over Quinne's chest and smeared over Draco's face as his head was pushed down. He scratched at the dark erected buds facing him and gasped as the strong fingers were twined in his hair, yanking his face back up to be devoured again by Quinne's harsh mouth, gleaming teeth stabbing at his lps and drawing sweet crimson blood to trickle down his chin in stinging pain.  
  
"Let go!" he bellowed as Quinne reached down to rip his pants away.   
  
Draco was struggling terribly now, so the large hand trailed up and caught Draco's flushed face, holding it still, nails cutting into his cheek.  
  
The terrible mouth came closer and closer. Draco shrunk back against the wall, straining his neck to throw his head to the side. But Quinne was too strong for him and managed to pin him to the wall with his lips.  
  
Draco's eyes rolled wildly as his stomach reeled. Quinne shoved his foul tongue into Draco's mouth, nearly choking the young wizard. Draco scratched at the bare chest stifling him with heat and sweat, pulled at the thick hair crowding his face, and frantically searched the occupants of the club for a familiar face to help him.   
  
Then he found one.  
  
Harry stood in the middle of the dance floor, an expression as Draco had never seen before on his face. He was staring at Draco and the former Slytherin saw with a terrible sinking feeling that the emerald eyes changed, darkening into a look of black rage and betrayal.  
  
No! he wanted to scream, but Harry was already gone before he could do anything, and Quinne had moved to his neck, biting it harshly.  
  
"Let me GO!!" he roared, bringing his knee up into Quinne's chin and sending the bigger man flipping backwards. Without another look back - dripping blood, pants undone, shirt ripped in several places, and bruises dotting his flesh - Draco ran into the rain outside the club where he had seen Harry disappear, tears already starting down his pale face, sending the angry emerald eyes blazing.....  
  
  
..... He knew Draco would love it. Everything about it screamed his taste.   
  
The ring's dark jewel glittered in the candle light. Harry thought it a little gothic to propose with, but it held a dark beauty that seemed to match his Slytherin perfectly.  
  
At first he had thought that proposing was a stupid thing to do. But after Nayve's "birth", he knew it was only right. The year was ending soon anyway, and he would have to have something connecting him to Draco before they could meet again outside of school.  
  
Tucking the silver ring back into his pocket, Harry quickened his pace down the long hall, breath already heavy in his lungs from the sprint he took evading Filch's questions as to why young Potter would be out in the hall this night.   
  
Cursing himself once more for forgetting his invisibility cloak, Harry stopped at a door and listened. Nothing. Draco wouldn't be in there anyway. But where? was the question. The blonde didn't know that Harry was meeting him tonight, for it was to be a surprise when he would pop the question. Despite the solid fact that Draco despised surprises, Harry felt the excitement bubbling inside his chest for when his lover would gaze over the jewel that would bind their fates to one another.  
  
"Bind our fates," he murmured, not able to stifle what he knew to be a goofy grin on his face.  
  
Giving up on any of their usual hiding places, Harry trudged back to his dorm and sat on his bed, thinking. Then it struck him like a brick to the temple.  
  
Draco would be in his dorm!  
  
It was only obvious, Harry conceded to himself on the way to Slytherin, hidden safe under hs cloak. He wasn't expecting me, so why would he be hanging about at our secret places?  
  
Harry only had to wait a couple minutes before a third year Slytherin, being led by a very irritable Slytherin Prefect, whined the password to the wall and was permitted entrance, allowing the Griffindor inside, too. He watched as the third year was lectured before making his way up the stairs, chuckling.  
  
Draco had gotten his own room by special circumstances arranged by his father. Harry put his ear to the door, gently tapping his wand on the handle. He heard Draco's voice, and wondered whether the Slytherin was reciting spells.  
  
Pushing the door open and backing in, shutting it behind him and slipping off the cloak all in one movement, Harry turned around, beaming and thrust forth the ring.  
  
It clattered to the floor a second later as Harry realized Draco was not alone in his room, or in his bed.  
  
The wanton face of the Slytherin Blaize regarded Harry almost lazily, teal eyes hooded and quiet. Lying full length on top of Blaize, uncovered by either blankets or clothes, was Draco suckling upon the other boy's ear and massaging his shoulders, hips grinding into the teal eyed boy's back.  
  
Silver eyes raised and time stood still. Harry felt his legs become lead and his insides turn to water. His lips fell apart and he watched in a dull shock as Draco leaned back into a sitting position, still straddling Blaize. He stared at Blaize's face when the boy moaned and gasped along with Draco's movement, arching at the pressure the blonde boy pressed inside of him.   
  
Harry's legs gave away and he crumpled to the ground, tears clouding his gaze and a terribly aching pain breaking over his chest in a spreading of freezing cold. Hazily he heard Blaize's voice rise in a hiss of pleasure and the small smack of Draco leaving Blaize's body. His green eyes were fixed to the floor, draining away the salty tears to drip over his hands and run over the fallen ring lying by his limp fingers.  
  
Blaize sauntered by him a few minutes later, blowing Draco a slow kiss at the doorway. But Draco was watching Harry with a blank expression that sent heated daggers stabbing into his heart with every steady breath Draco took.  
  
"How could you do this to me?" he asked, curling up on the floor into a fetal position. Draco stayed where he was on the bed, eyes going to the ring lying on the ground.  
  
"You took a risk, Potter," he said hollowly, with no trace of feeling or regard to the huddled figure on his plush green carpet. Harry raised his head, eyes burning holes of betrayal into Draco's.  
  
"I took a risk," he repeated in an empty voice.  
  
"Face it," Draco continued as if Harry had not spoken, a small sneer itching at his lips, "Nothing ever lasts forever. I suggest you go back to your happy little dream world, Potter. To your happy little camera mad Creevey brothers, your countless fan clubs of little squealing girls. Go back to your Weasel and your Mudblood, where you *belong*. Leave, Potter. A Golden Boy such as yourself does not appertain in the pit of snakes."  
  
He turned away from Harry then, who was clutching at the ground with numb fingers, shaking with sobs.  
  
"But *why*, Draco," he pleaded, anger disintegrating into a desperate fear. "I *do* belong with you! You told me you loved me, you told me that. And I love you! I *love* you, Draco!"  
  
The silver eyes glinted.   
  
"Shut up, Potter," he said in a deadpan voice, sending Harry a cold glare. "Get out of here now before Blaize comes to his wits and tells the others."  
  
"No! I won't leave you, Draco! You *love* me-"  
  
"I'm *bored* of you!" Draco roared, rising from the bed and taking Harry roughly by the shoulders, shaking him. Harry sobbed, trying to cling to Draco's chest, but the Slytherin shoved him backwards to the floor, stumbling away as if Harry had burned him. "Get out. Get OUT!"  
  
~*~  
  
Harry sat in the midst of his peers as Dumbledore read aloud their names in alphabetical order from each house. He had already gone up and accepted his Wizard's diploma, grinning back at Hermione streaming tears of joy and Ron pumping his fist in the air. Seamus and Dean thumped him on the back when he returned, and Parvati had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Dismissing his usual patient annoyance with the girl, he hugged both her and Lavender tightly, whispering to all of his friends, "We did it!"  
  
Dumbledore paused for the applause to stop as another student sat down. When he read out the next name, Harry flinched.  
  
"Malfoy, Draco."  
  
The Slytherin table of seventh years roared its approval as he shook hands with Dumbledore and the other staff members stiffly, only showing emotion to Snape, who he gave a weak smile acknowledging the man's proud look. When he strode back down the stairs, his eyes met Harry's only for a fleeting second. He paused suddenly in the middle of his step. Harry's breath left his chest in a whoosh.  
  
Then the silver eyes moved over him and Draco sat down. Harry looked down at his hands as another name was read. That look had been as devoid of feeling as the ribboned deploma he held in his quaking hands.  
  
The next day waking up from their graduating party in Hogsmeade, the seventh years bid a final farewell to their school. Students flooded teacher's classrooms, wishing them luck and thanking them for so many years of good times.  
  
Harry had finished early after trying to tell Professor Snape that he didn't hate him and that he really was a good person. *That* turned out to be a big mistake and Harry had afterwards fled from the crowded halls to get a little bout of freedom on the lake. It was from up in the boughs of the weeping willow he saw Draco climbing into his family carriage beside his father.  
  
The black cloak the pale boy wore billowed in the wind of the afternoon and the chill rose spots of color in his cheeks like rouge. His silver eyes one last time swept the turrets of the castle and he raised his hand in a last farewell before ducking into the carriage and riding off into the approaching sunset.  
  
As he rocked back and forth inside the carriage beside his cold father, Draco blinked away the stinging tears threatening to spill over his lids. He had seen Harry watching him from the willow, and he had felt the intense pain again as was so the night he cast Harry from his life.  
  
Moving his misting gaze to the tiny window of the carriage, Draco remembered the night that Harry had said the one thing that sent tendrils of fear snaking their way through Draco's heart:  
  
'Nayve reminded me that we'll never have a family.'  
  
A family.  
  
The thought of such commitment, and the realization that Draco himself longed for such, had scared him worse than anything before. It was with the falling of those words that Draco realized how much he cared about Harry Potter. How much the boy meant, taped glasses and all. Those feelings that stirred inside him both hurt and made him.  
  
They also reminded him of how much he could get hurt if Harry ever left him, so he escaped first.  
  
The sun sunk beneath the burning red horizon and Draco's eyes reflected the scene in pools of crimson light dancing through his eyes. Those burning eyes turned downwards to regard a small object lying in his hands. He closed his fingers tightly around it and closed his eyes against the glare of the night, tears seeping past his lids to drip onto his hands, falling between the cracks of his rigid fingers to paint the object clutched in them with the sadness tearing his soul.....  
  
  
..... There, a flash of white that could only be the top Harry had worn to the club. Draco hurried, skipping past people all bundled up in their warm clothes who gave the beautiful young man running in the rain momentary stares before forgetting him and trudging onwards.  
  
The alley he slid into was dark and long. At the end there was a break between the brick walls and Draco would see a ghostly shadowed tree of the city park. He began to run, faster and faster, slipping and sliding over various items of garbage, doorsteps, and homeless people.  
  
Harry was standing out in the middle of a wide clearing in the park, head bent back, neck arched beautifully as he drank in the rain. Draco slowed and stopped under the cover of a large tree, watching his partner and catching his breath as it stung with moistness through his heaving lungs.  
  
Green eyes matching the grass sweeping out on either side of them turned up to find him out among the shadows. Harry turned violently away and started marching pointedly in the other direction, on the brink of breaking into a run by the way his legs were so stiff. Draco knew him well enough to realize that Harry did not want to be found at all.  
  
Slender legs much stronger than they looked flew over sopping grass as the other pair pounded over the wet ground as well. Draco was faster than Harry though. He knew it, and so did Harry the way he ran so desperately.  
  
Draco closed in on the darker boy quickly, leaning against the rain and shooting through it like a torpedo of flesh and blood. Harry glanced over his shoulder and threw himself forward for a burst of speed.  
  
They were nearing the hill and Harry was running with wild abandon. Draco could hear his gasping breaths through the rain as well as see the puffs of steam. It wouldn't be long-  
  
With a flying tackle rivaling those in the game of Rugby, Draco closed his arms around Harry's middle, pinning his pumping hands and slamming them both midway into the hill. There was a second of struggle before they slid off of the tiny plateau they had landed, and went tumbling together down the slope.  
  
Draco landed heavily atop Harry, gaining his wits quick enough to the pin the other man's hands and hold them to the ground. Harry growled and twisted, fighting tooth and nail to get free, but Draco was as stone.   
  
A gasping and terribly sweaty rainsoaked stone, but well enough the same.  
  
Deciding that there was really no chance he was getting free without some kind of confrontation; either physical, mental, or both, Harry blinked rapidly against the rain and sent a withering glare at Draco, who had neatly straddling his waist and trying to catch his breath enough to speak.  
  
"So what are you?" Harry started savagely, "Some kind of little whore for him, then?! Do you get on your fucking knees for him behind his desk at work? I was wondering why you kept going to that job. And what *job* was it? Blow, I presume!?"  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"Shut up and get off of me! I never want to see you again, you fucking bastard! I am not your doormat any more, Malfoy. Go find some fucking ponce like Quinne to fill your bed from now on, because I am DONE with you, Draco Malfoy!"  
  
"Harry, please. You don't know what you're saying-"  
  
"No! This time, I get to leave you. This time, you're the one who gets to feel what it's like to be left alone." Harry was getting hysterical now, shaking and sobbing so that his words were nearly inaudible mixed with the pounding of the rain and thunder overhead.  
  
"Harry, please," Draco whispered, tears meeting rain drops as Harry shut his eyes and tried to yank his hands free, "If you would listen to me-"  
  
"Why should I?" Harry snarled venomously.  
  
Draco growled back and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Because I love you and only you, you daft twit! Quinne was drunk off his arse and if you would actually have taken time to come over and find out what was happening, you would've seen he was trying to bloody fuck me against my will!"   
  
He leaned close to Harry's stricken face, voice becoming very quiet and laced with frustration; "When we were younger I may have been nothing but a miserable whore finding self worth in how many people I could get to scream my name and tell me they loved me, but there was one person I actually believed felt what I longed for. That person is you."  
  
"Than why did you leave me," Harry whispered brokenly, tears still flooding out his eyes, "Why did you say those things in seventh year?"  
  
"Because I was afraid of my love for you. I was afraid to admit I would never look at another the same way I look at you. I was absolutely terrified at the fact that by you smiling, my day would become worth going through. Can you even imagine feeling those emotions for the first time in your life and knowing that you had finally found that one person who you would give your heart to?"  
  
Harry stared at him with wide eyes, lids twitching in the pelting rain. His mouth was open slightly, and Draco let go of his hands. They sat across from each other, and Harry looked up at the sky, then back down at Draco.  
  
"I-"  
  
"Don't," Draco said, smiling. "We're having a moment, just don't speak."  
  
Then Harry fell laughing with relief into Draco's arms and they embraced under the rolling gray clouds of the raging storm.  
  
A/N: THIS IS ***NOT*** THE END, blast it!!!! I know it's horribly guppy and all that, but I'm not done. You still have one more chapter that ties everything together. Then, and only then, we shall be done. *grin* So.... how did you guys like my bout of predictiveness, eh, EH? Was it way too cliched? Tell me, please, I'm too giggly right now to tell myself. *kiss* Au revior!  
  
~*Villain*~ 


	10. Petal Soft

A/N: THANX TO....  
**You know, bubs-who-didn't-sign-your-names, I really can't stand death threats. They make me feel unloved and grumpy.  
**Coeur-de-ma-vie: I'm honored you like this humble little piece so much!  
**Ladyblondehair: *laughs* I really don't think Harry is THAT manly man...  
**eMJay: *embarrassed* So I'm a little slow! *grin* Good things come to those who wait, love!  
**maya's_tom  
**Quasy: *gives you bear hug in the heterosexual way* I'm flattered, but this has to be the last chappie! *sobs* Forgive me!!  
**Lady Rillen: *hug* You're such a sweetie, and your reviews are such a joy to read.  
**JaneyLane5: *laughs* Thanks, hun.  
  
Chapter Ten: Petal Soft  
  
The deep claw footed bathtub was filled to the brim with violet scented water, littered over with fresh rose petals. Above the tub floated large bubbles that glowed and spread a romantic luminescence over the whole room, bathing it in a dim, rose colored light.  
  
Two lanky figures lay immobile in the scented bath, one with silver hair kissed crimson and the other with hair as black as pitch sticking out every which way in stiff, wet tentacles. The dark man's hands ran over the smaller man's chest, dipping down beneath the water. At this the silver haired man gasped and arched backwards.  
  
"My fingers are getting wrinkly," Draco commented drily. Harry laughed, pulling the former Slytherin higher up into his lap and moving beneath his slender form pleasurably.  
  
"Wrinkles should be the last thing on your mind right now, Draco. What an insult," he said in mock hurt.  
  
"Oh pah, I doubt you care. You're darker anyway, and darker people age better than us blondes."  
  
"I thought we were just talking about water wrinkles!"  
  
"I'll be a prune by my thirties."  
  
Harry smothered a laugh by kissing the back of Draco's neck and drawing designs through the droplets of water with is tongue. Sensing Draco's darkened mood and picturing the adorable pout adorning the his lips, Harry murmured against warm flesh, "I like prunes."  
  
"Here I am in self denial and you just go to tell me that 'yes, you will become a prune in your later life, but I enjoy them anyway'!"  
  
"What do you want me to say?"  
  
"That I'm the fairest in all the land."  
  
"Harry, Harry, in the tub, who is the sexiest of studs..."  
  
"That doesn't even rhyme, Harry."  
  
"Doesn't have to, does it?"  
  
"For Merlin sakes, have some tact- oh!"  
  
"You know," Harry said matter-of-factly, "I remember you telling me once that actions are better than words not so long ago. So why don't *you* shut your desirous yap and let me make this a somewhat pleasant and relaxing day for us, hmmm?" He had turned Draco around so that their stomachs lightly tickled each other as Draco rose in the water.  
  
At first Draco was rather miffed at being what he would think as manhandled, but when Harry pulled him forward, rubbing their bodies lengthwise against each other, he quickly forgot his complaint and moaned into Harry's fresh mouth, their kiss bursting as a fountain would.  
  
Harry drew Draco back a little, quite taken with this easy movement he had with the water manipulating the wizard, and darted his tongue to sweep over Draco's luscious lower lip, drawing the warm skin between his teeth to roll it almost gently. Draco arched up at the movement, his knees resting on either side of Harry's waist and back hunched over, shoulders tucked in close to his lover's chest.  
  
Hands with the wrinkled skin of soaking too long in water massaged wide circles over the arched white back, moving down to grasp the slight rise at the base of his spine. Draco's lips fell apart in a gasp and he was shoved forward, Harry delving is tongue into the open mouth and raising his hips to slap wetly against Draco's. The blonde wizard lowered heavily into him, grinding their hips together and creating a hot friction that made Harry's eyelids flutter and heart pound.  
  
Then Draco found himself slipped beneath Harry, the raven haired man's weight pressing him into the water. He heard splashes on the bathroom tiles as the water rocked as one body, monetarily submerging his whole face. Though his position was forgotten as Harry's probing fingers dipped slowly beneath the water and traced down his spine, sending shivers pulsing up his body, even in the warmth of the water.  
  
Lips, petal soft, brushed his ear, then his shoulders, then the dip in the spine, then his raised backside. Cold hands, with raisin wrinkled tips, gripped his thighs, raising him higher out of the water and gently spreading them apart.  
  
Draco hung onto the edge of the tub so that he would not be wholly submerged beneath the water. Blowing idly at a rose petal stuck to his cheek, he felt a smile creep over his mouth when a finger drew over his lips and toyed with his tongue which swirled around the water softened digit. He wetted it, taking the whole finger into his mouth and gently sucking. Behind him Harry whispered a soft moan, adding another finger beside the first.  
  
The side of the tub was very cold against his arms as he crossed them over the white edge, burying his face in them and trying to ignore it as he was invaded slowly and stretched. Harry went to dull the sensation with distracting kissed dancing like tiny flowers over his back and legs. Draco sucked in his breath and relaxed, closing his eyes, rocking slowly with the movement of the water around him.....  
  
  
..... Harry pulled the bright red scarf tighter around his neck, then shoved his gloved *and* mitten covered hands into the deep pockets of his traveling cloak, which covered over a winter coat of Dudley's that finally fit him somewhat lengthwise, several of Mrs. Weasly's sweaters from fourth year through seventh, and three long sleeved tees. His heavy boots crunched in the snow, plodding easily over the rocks beneath the frozen ground because Harry had no way to feel anything rough through two pairs of wool socks and five pairs he had just purchased the other day. One could also point out to him that his legs looked like badly linked sausages. This was only because (he would explain to them) he is wearing two pairs of long johns, one pair of wool slacks, jeans, and those terrible pants that rustle whenever you move. But of course anyone would have trouble understanding him due to the fact that only his lenses were visible under more layers of scarves, ski masks and snow caps.  
  
Basically for the ten minutes it took to get to the nearest pub, Harry Potter looked more like the abominable snow man with a cold than a nineteen year old wizard who had just the other day humiliated himself at a job interview in the city nearby.  
  
The pub was bustling with refugees from the blizzard outside, and though none of them were quite as flat out *dressed* as Harry, they all had piled their winter gear in a huge mass of wet clothing by the door. Harry's five or six outfits soon joined the rest and he made it to the counter of the place in his socks after discarding his boots, coats, sweaters, and most of his pants.  
  
He nodded to the regulars of the pub, only recognizing one or two of the new faces in the place. The bartender slid his drink down the counter, smoothly missing anybodys' elbows or arms with great practice. Harry caught the steaming mug of cider and searched the place for an empty seat to rest his tired legs. Following the directions of the bar keep, he was steered towards a narrow table all the way in the back corner where no one was, as everybody was currently crowding around the fire or the bar. Harry nodded his thanks and weaved his way slowly through the mob of small time farmers and the sparse population of wizards he knew from Diagon alley.  
  
There *was* a single person sitting at the table already with his feet up on the long seat and who was leaning back against the wall. Harry slid into the other side and smiled at the character, who's face was conceiled by a dark hood.  
  
After a few sips of cider started to work their magic, Harry took a couple of moments to study his seat partner. It was a man by the way the dark cloak he wore hung on him with quiet grace, and by the way his finger would move when he gripped his cup. Suddenly remembering the crowded laughter of the pub, Harry thought back to the tiny cabin he had bought to get away from his fame, and his narrow bed within the cabin, only big enough for one person.  
  
Then again, he thought sadly, that's all who's ever there in that empty place.  
  
For the past month he had almost totally disconnected himself from the outside world. The fund in the bank was running fine, but not forever, and costs were getting higher. If he didn't get a job soon, he would be lost. And though Ron and Hermione always offered an extra room, he knew that they couldn't be responsible for him forever.  
  
Yet the sting of loneliness was deep. Be it friends, or lovers, he needed someone. And somehow this odd quiet character sitting silently across from him made him remember all these depressing thoughts.  
  
He looks like a loner, Harry mused to himself. I wish I could see his face.  
  
Humorously he tapped at the table and leaned forward. "Something to hide, mate?" The figure across from him didn't move. The hand toying with the empty glass paused momentarily, then started again. Harry frowned.  
  
"I notice you're wearing only one layer of clothing. That looks like a pretty thin material, too." He laughed, "If you saw me come in, you'd have noticed me bringing along my own clothing store, right on my back!"  
  
The figure still didn't move.  
  
"I can see you aren't much of a talkative fellow, but you might as well converse with a poor sap like me," Harry snapped, anger fading quickly at his small outburst. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough couple of months for me. You would never imagine how hard life could be after school until you get there and live it." He smiled wanly. "In school, I thought that one day I would be on top of the world. But now, no matter who you are, that dream is nearly impossible." Looking down at his mug, he failed to notice the sharp eyes under the hood rise to watch him. "Especially when you're alone."  
  
The figure's fingers tightened around his glass, and Harry saw them, white as snow. He reached out gingerly, thinking to maybe warm them if they were cold, but they were ripped away and tucked beneath the cloak in a flash. Harry blinked in surprise, his own hands resting on top of the table as if stunned.  
  
"Who are you?" he questioned suspiciously, leaning over sideways to peer into the blackness of the hood. In the dim light of the pub, he could almost make out dark shadows, the glint of eyes - but not enough to be sure. "I wasn't trying anything, honestly. Let me tell you this, friend, one shouldn't be so jumpy as that. The lads around here don't take kindly to odd acting strangers," he warned, perfectly aware that he was wording the same exact message the kindly bar keep had told him upon first coming into this little out-of-the-way village place.  
  
"You blokes are going to drink me out of house and home!" boomed a merry voice from the front of the pub. Old Charlie was the aging bar keep that had taken Harry under his wing when the young man first came here. Harry cared for him deeply because the man had taken to him with no background, and no questions. "Someday I'll sell this place to some pretty little girl who will start a bakery, or a restraunt then we'll see if you keep complaining to me!"   
  
"Stop your ramblings, Charlie, and bring us up some more of that ale!"  
  
Harry directed his gaze back to the silent man across from him. His curiosity tore at his insides, loneliness fueling his bravery.  
  
"I could easily reach across and uncover your face," he pointed out, leaning back casually. The face came up and the lower half was partly visible. A smiling mouth with thin, white lips made Harry suddenly feel like a scared little boy. This figure, even with so little of his face in the light, held an impending presence.  
  
"I have dealt with death, Potter," he whispered is a raspy voice, "You cannot scare me."  
  
Harry stared. Even though he had learned long ago to quit asking how people knew his name, the way the man spoke it sent horrible chills down his spine, as well as another feeling deep inside, buried beneath the others.  
  
Clearing his throat, Harry shook off the small ringing in his ears and instead congratulated himself on getting words out of the guy.  
  
"Are you visiting Mossy Hollow?"  
  
"That is of my own concern." The voice was quiet, teasing, almost playful. Harry narrowed his eyes.  
  
"If it concerns this town, it concerns me," he said darkly.  
  
"You're the hero here, too then? I thought the Golden Boy would come to a place like this to escape."  
  
"Who are you?" Harry was suddenly on his feet.  
  
"Did you though, Harry," the voice whispered, "Did you really leave *everything* behind you? All those nasty little skeletons in your closet."  
  
I thought we vanquished all of the Death Eaters, Harry thought in a panic, backing away from the table.   
  
"Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Don't you ever miss..." the voice faded into a guarded silence. Harry's eyes had narrowed down to emerald slits, his hand resting on the pocket which held his wand.  
  
Suddenly the figure rose and swiftly began to walk from the pub, tossing various coins onto the counter as he passed. Old Charlie wished him a safe trip as the door slammed in a swirl of snow. Harry stared after the figure, confused, scared, and angry. Feeling tired, he slumped back into his seat and reached for his mug. But something glinting on the table top caught his eye and he reached forward to gently touch a glittering silver circlet. Then he gasped as if burned and jumped to his feet again, breath racing from his lungs, heart pounding wildly.  
  
The ring's dark jewel glinted in the dim lights.  
  
Without another thought, Harry shot from the room and stumbled through the door blindly, not hearing the lads in the background warning him of the cold and the dark. He threw himself into the snow and worked his way left, pumping his arms. For some reason he knew that further into the village was not the way he should go. He *knew* it.  
  
The woods loomed around him, the cold more intense even with less snow covering the ground. Silver shadows played over the deep green in the trees, and the sounds of melting and cracking ice reached his ears. But there was no sign of anything else but the quiet and peace of these dark woods.  
  
Harry followed the winding trail he was used to taking back to his cabin, walking as quickly as he could, eyes staring intently forward, breath freezing over his lips, sweat clinging to his frigid black tresses. All that evaded his thoughts, though, as he entered the soft silver meadow he would cross to get to his house. On this night however, the meadow stretched before him like barren wasteland. There was no one there.  
  
He ran along slowly, joints freezing in the wind, and stopped at the near middle of the field, staring up with icy framed eyes at the winking stars peeking from under the blanket of snow bearing clouds. Tears of long past hung frozen on his skin, stinging. The moon above him, swimming in a framed sea of cloudless stars caressed his lone form in silver light, dripping down over him in the heavenly syrup of night.  
  
"Where have you gone?" he whispered, falling to his knees.  
  
Warmth wrapped around his ear and he froze.   
  
"To have tasted something so sweet, so fleetingly."  
  
"To have loved something so deeply, so weak," he replied quietly, turning slowly to see Draco, haloed by silver light, hood thrown back, watching him with impassive eyes that reflected nothing but the cold of the snow.  
  
"It was never weak; what I felt for you, Potter."  
  
"Than why did you rip it away from me?"  
  
Fingers pressed against his mouth to hush and Harry felt a small sob drip from his lips. Draco lowered himself gracefully to his knees, drawing his frail arms up around Harry's shoulders and holding him firmly.  
  
"I have never forgotten you," Harry murmured into the crook of Draco's neck.  
  
"I would not of let you," Draco whispered back fiercly, fingering the dark jeweled ring in Harry's grasp. He grabbed the other's chin after sliding the ring back onto his finger and tilted the precious face upwards, smiling softly down into the frozen tears. Gently and slowly with a steaming tongue he drew his way over the frigid lashes, licking them clean of any cold. Harry's lips puckered and it was everything he could do not to lie back on the ground and beg Draco to take him right then and there.  
  
"My cabin is close," he said, taking Draco's hands as the blonde pulled him to his feet. The happiness and relief he felt was unbelievable. There were so many questions, so many gaps to fill, yet he wanted nothing more than to take Draco home and lay in his arms, showering him with kisses.  
  
Draco merely nodded as this comment and followed Harry closely the rest of the way. When they arrived, Harry stumbled inside, aiming his wand at the dead fire place and starting up the flames. Draco smiled secretly at Harry's flustered movements, and moved up behind him as the wizard was babbling over the mess of the place.  
  
"You always did talk too much," he said, biting the lobe of Harry"s ear hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. His arms went around Harry's tapered waist just in time to catch his limp form as the man's knees gave way. Spotting a door breaking off into another part of the house, he half dragged Harry into the room, pleased to have guessed right, and lowered the darker boy onto the mattress where he lay immobile, gaze silently worshipping the silver haired angel who had just swept back into his life on glossy black wings.  
  
Draco peeled off his cloak to reveal a thin form fitting turtle neck of deep blue and tight fitting straight legged jeans riding low on the flare of his hips. Harry felt weak.  
  
"You must've caught your death of cold," Draco scolded quietly, playing the location of the kitchen by chance and managing to get a cup of steaming tea back to the man in the bed.  
  
Harry sipped it, eyes never leaving Draco's face, which reacted to his blatant staring with an easy smile.  
  
"You stare as if you look away I'll disappear in a cloud of smoke."  
  
His smile widened as the drawn cheeks darkened in a blush.  
  
"It -it's just-"  
  
"Don't bother," he chuckled, waving it away, "I'm here now."  
  
"I'm glad," Harry whispered. He touched Draco's arm lightly, eyes wide and teary. The fabric of his pants rustled and Draco looked down at them with amusement, fingering a fold in the cloth. Harry watched him move the white fingers up his pant leg until they rested at the top of his thigh.   
  
"These clothes are dirty and wet," Draco commented, eyes flicking up to catch Harry's, hooded under his thick lashes.  
  
Harry went to remove them breathlessly, but Draco stopped him with a shake of his head, moving to perch on his knees. The other man shivered with pleasure when the white hands moved under his sweaters and pushed them up to his neck, pulling them over his head and uncovering a shaking shallow chest.  
  
Draco's mouth turned down at the clear sight of Harry's ribs. His eyes, dark with anger, turned up and Harry recoiled as if slapped. But Draco caught his wrists and yanked him back up. "You haven't been eating."  
  
"I - I've just been busy. That's all, I swear. Draco, it's nothing." For a moment, Harry felt like he was seventeen again.  
  
The anger faded slowly into nothing. Draco pulled him close, gripping at his back tightly. "That won't be happening any longer," he promised, and Harry's heart felt as if it would burst.  
  
"You mean-"  
  
But Draco cut him off as he slid from the bed and moved his hand to the velcro strip holding up Harry's rustling pants. He tore it away roughly, jerking Harry's thin frame, and worked them down over bony hips to uncover more pairs of jeans beneath. Chuckling quietly, he did the same with the other pairs of pants until he had uncovered Harry all the way down to the man's last covering; his black boxers lying crumpled and shrunken against his skin.  
  
With a coy smile, Draco stood up and walked toward the door.  
  
"You need more tea. Get yourself in bed, and we'll see about that cold." With that he left a horrified Harry behind and refilled the tea cup.  
  
As he was pouring the water into the delicate china cup, he closed his eyes as two hands curled around his waist and latched onto each other securely. Harry pressed himself against Draco's back, and the other man knew instantly that Harry stood naked behind him.  
  
"You will bring about your death," he said smoothly, sentence ending in a moan as Harry undid his belt and unzipped his pants. "I would never forgive myself."  
  
"Than it is your job to warm my cold skin," Harry whispered huskily into his ear, circling around in front of Draco. He stood before him, not quite able to quell the shivering of his limbs. Draco smirked at him and leaned forward to press his lips firmly to Harry's, gripping his shoulders in a cruelly hard grasp. Harry gasped in a pleasure driven pain, moving to align himself with Draco, cupping the angular face and lapping at the curving mouth. Draco parted his lips, meeting Harry's tongue and sliding along the muscle, rubbing his hand down Harry's bare back and twining the other in ebony locks, pulling the beautiful white neck into a sharp arch and biting at the quivering flesh before him.  
  
Harry softly cried out Drac's name with swollen, blue bruised lips, his hips bucking as Draco ground into them harshly.   
  
Then Harry slid down Draco's chest and gripped his naked hips with pale, shaking hands, his quivering mouth shaping warm breath onto Draco's inner thigh.  
  
Draco looked down at the honest green eyes staring up at him with nothing but a worried, fragile devotion. He smiled kindly and stroked the side of Harry's face, groaning deep in his throat as he was enveloped by warmth as soft as Angel's breath. Harry bobbed his head slowly, eyes never leaving Draco's face, tears brimming his lids as the beautiful man standing over him whispered his name sweetly into the frosty night, voice breaking into a cry.   
  
"Harry....."  
  
  
..... Rain pelted against the roof of the cottage and Harry closed his eyes to listen to it. Thunder rolled almost gently above the rain, lightning kissing the sky sharply. The storm was a soft one, the eye far from the quaint cottage nestled in the trees. Harry looked out the window passed the grandfather clock to gaze at the choppy surface of the lake; a thick pewter gray as was the sky. On the bank, cattails swayed and played over the ground in the stirring wind, as if embracing each other like spectral lovers.  
  
He lay Draco's head gently down on the white sheets, drawing his thumb lightly over the rose pink lips and smiling warmly when a slender hand brushed at him, sleeping brow knitting in annoyance.  
  
Outside the cold bit as his skin with a vengeance in deep jealousy of his warmth. Harry chastised himself for not bringing out at least a shirt, and underestimating the intensity of the weather outside.   
  
Picking his way carefully over the swaying grass, he made his way down to the lake.  
  
The water lapped at the bank, smoothing over the runny mud, a cloud of dirt floating on the turning edge. Further out, Harry could see the blue depths through the gray, water grasses on the lake bed whipping side to side like tiny banners of dull green ribbon. Tiny fish darted in an out of the dancing plants, silver shadows flickering in and out of his sights. They swam with the wind riding above water, swimming in groups back and forth.  
  
On the far end of the lake Harry thought he saw the bright beak of a mallard, maybe a flash of metallic green feathers. Looking up, his glasses were dotted with droplets, blotting his vision. He continued to look upwards, watching with a detached fascination as the rain came spearing down, hitting the round glass shields protecting his eyes.  
  
Cold slapped across his face like a whip, bringing a healthy color to his cheeks and teasing at his white hands hugging himself and his bare chest and back. The long grasses along the bank laughed at him, and the rain sang as it coated his hair and glittered with droplets clinging to the stark black. He shook his head, flinging the drops to the ground where they disappeared among their fellows.  
  
Mud squished between his toes and he enjoyed the sensation as he strode purposefully around back of the cottage, pulling up short when he came in sight of the pink blossomed cherry tree, shedding its cheery pink flowers over the ground. Even through the pouring April rain he could faintly smell the aroma of the sweet springtime petals.  
  
His fingers ached dully and he scratched himself on a loose twig as he twisted off a small branch with the healthiest, liveliest blooms still clinging to life. Tucking the stem securely into the waistband of his sweatpants, Harry plodded to the back door of the cottage, shoulders hunched into the wind and hair swept over his forehead, hiding the vivid lightning bolt scar from view.  
  
Inside he left a trail of water in his wake to the kitchen, where Draco found him climbing onto the counters to reach the high shelves where he kept his treasured china. The blonde had always thought it odd, but Harry had a fine taste for old china. Sometimes, for fun, he would read the tea leaves in his cup, seeming to always deduct only happiness and prosperity in his future.   
  
Draco watched the dark haired boy, wrinkling his nose at the muddy footprints staining the floor, and chuckling at the sopping wet pants clinging to Harry in an oh so pleasant way. Smirking, he sat at the table, silently pulling out a chair and seating himself quiet enough so that Harry was not aware of his presence.  
  
Each person acts different when they're alone. It's a fact in life. Draco happened to enjoy watching Harry very much when the wizard thought he was alone. The way he would mumble to himself, or rub at his scar with an annoyance he was so used to dealing with all his life, or when he would lie with his back up against a tree, eyes closed, book resting open in his lap. He was so beautiful when he knew the world had its eyes blocked from him. Often when Draco knew he was deep asleep, he would gently kiss his scar, always warm to the touch, and kiss him awake. Harry loved it when he did that. And he loved Harry in return.  
  
Blinking back into reality, Draco cocked his head to the side, a mischievous smile playing over his sensuous mouth.  
  
"What are you doing, Harry?"   
  
With a sharp yelp, Harry shot back from the cupboard he was digging around in and went flailing backwards off the shelf. From a gangly heap on the ground, he glared up at Draco with angry eyes, pouting mouth, and glasses askew on his nose. Draco laughed, kneeling down on the floor beside his lover to brush back wet locks of ebony and kiss the furrowed brow tenderly.  
  
"So graceful," he teased, kissing Harry's nose, "So elegant." He kissed his mouth, sweeping his tongue along the bottom lip and mewling with pleasure as Harry took his tongue into his mouth, biting down gently and pulling Draco down over him by the muscle, grinning impishly.  
  
"So good," Harry mumbled.  
  
"What are these for?" Draco asked, as he was running his fingers under Harry's waistband. He had discovered the flowers and held them up for inspection. "Are these what you were risking your neck for up there? Cheery blossoms?"  
  
"You reminded me of them."  
  
"I'm not sure I want to know why."  
  
"Quit flattering yourself," Harry said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Well, what a I supposed to think?" Draco got to his knees, laying the flowers onto the tabletop.  
  
"With me!? You act as if I'm unsavory or something-"  
  
"Unsavory? Oh Harry, *never*," Draco oozed sarcastically. Harry swatted him irritably. Draco grinned at him and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Harry's tangled disaster of hair and grinning. "Harry, Harry, of the tub," he crooned, "Who *is* the sexiest of studs?"  
  
"That reminds me; I bet I'm going to get raisin skin from the rain."  
  
"Gee, thanks love." Draco flicked him in the ear. "So vain, Harry."  
  
Harry stood up, shrugging and walking back over to the counter, staring determinedly up at the top shelf, lips pursed.  
  
Draco made a face. "Honestly, love." He raised his hand and his wand came floating through the air from the living room right into his open palm. Then he raised it up, pointed it at a beautifully articulated vase of intricate tracery, and said lazily, "Accio vase."  
  
Now it was Harry's turn to make a face as he snatched the vase from the air. "Very clever, Draco - *if* you want to be lazy about it."  
  
Frowning, Draco pointed his wand at Harry.  
  
"Mobilicorpus."  
  
"Draco, what-"  
  
"Accio, Harry."  
  
There was nothing he could do. Try and struggle as he might, it was all in vain and the chortling look on Draco's face sealed his fate as his feet brushed along the floor. Next thing Harry could tell, his lips were being shoved apart by a familiar tongue.  
  
"Laziness has its advantages," Draco derided coyly, releasing the magically invisible bonds from around Harry. He set down his wand and smartly took up the vase, plopping the flowers down into it and running it under the water faucet. He bowed his head and tried to hide a smile when two strong arms wrapped around his torso.  
  
"The old fashioned way does, too."  
  
He was slowly turned around so that he was facing Harry, his head tilted slightly back, breath caressing Harry's lower lip.  
  
"Let's put these on the table, shall we?"  
  
Harry grinned at him, taking the vase and setting it in the middle of the table, smoothing out the creases on the off white table cloth and flicking a few old crumbs away. He stood back to view his work, raising his hands and closing one eye, creating a tiny frame with his fingers.  
  
"A pretty picture," he said, turning to look over at Draco, and pausing.  
  
There was an odd look on the wizard's face. He was looking at Harry with an expression Harry had never seen before. Dropping his hand to his sides, he faced Draco fully and started to inquire as to why Draco looked so when the shorter man threw his arms around Harry's shoulders, burying his face in Harry's bare chest. Hugging him tightly in return, Harry stroked his back, confused.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked.  
  
Draco looked up, his pointed chin digging into Harry's chest. His eyes were brimming with tears. Suddenly quite alert, Harry held Draco away at arm's length.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
His worry melted away a little as Draco smiled at him, his eyes shining. "It's you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm so glad it's you."   
  
Harry's concern ebbed down to nothing. Chuckling, he pulled Draco to him, burying his nose in the soft silken tresses, smelling of faint spices and cedar bark. He glanced up as he heard the faint chimes of the grandfather clock. On the last chime, the cherry blossoms burst forth in a shower of petals, raining down on the two men. Harry and Draco looked at each other and Harry whispered, kissing Draco softly, "Happy Anniversary, love."  
  
^_____^*  
  
A/N: *sob* And that is that! *sniffle* Hope you enjoyed my extended bout of insanity. And I HAD to stick the Anniversary thing in there. It was a must have. Now my darlings, don't think for one second I won't have another wacky romance up within these near weeks! My notebook is filled with ideas, and my muses pumping up for another round! I'm guessing my next is going to be a rather dark fic since I'm switching in and out of light romantic humor. *evil mysterious grin* Love you all bunches of tomatoes! Au revior! *kissies and huggles*  
  
~*Villain*~ 


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